Inferno Island
by Cassandra Elise
Summary: Steed gets Caught in the Current. Emma is All Washed Up. Updated 8/31/02 The FINALE! All right, you all know what's wrong with Emma, but I'm putting up the Finale anyway. ;)
1. Default Chapter

The AVENGERS   
  
  
A small boat cruised smoothly on the blue sea, small waves emerging from underneath its Plexiglas bottom. As two men threw out the anchor, the vessel came to a complete stop.   
  
A deep-sea diver stepped onto the edge of the boat and asked his companion, "All clear to dive?" His friend nodded in response. The diver put his mask on, turned on his oxygen, and dove into the clear waters.  
  
The diver swam for several yards until he reached the bow of a large sunken ship. He approached it cautiously, making sure not to hit his head on the on one of the protruding planks.  
  
Suddenly a bright light shone from an underwater cove nearby. A powerful surge pushed the poor diver into a sharp piece of plank wood, and the diver immediately lost unconsciousness, falling to the bottom of the sea.  
  
Above the surface, the diver's companion likewise felt the force. Suddenly the boat flipped over, spilling him into the water. Water swirled around him as he grappled for air. After much struggling, his lungs filled with water, and he drifted to the bottom of the sea like his diving friend.  
  
The strong current and blinding light continued to make chaos for several minutes before both stopped.  
  
The two men were dead, and their boat was shred to pieces. Nothing was left of the diving team in the now tranquil water. Beyond the serene waters loomed a large landmass that belonged to a nearby archipelago.   
  
  
Inferno Island   
  
Steed Gets Caught in the Current  
Emma is All Washed Up   
  
  
  
  
  
First Day  
  
Mrs. Emma Peel strolled down the sidewalks, casually glancing into each store window she passed. It was wonderful to have a quiet afternoon to herself, doing nothing except to take a neighborly ramble down the street. An autumn breeze scattered freshly fallen leaves all over the paths. Emma inhaled the scent of fall and carelessly glanced at one of the displays at a hat shop.   
  
A man was hanging a large sign with big, red letters pasted across the front. Emma thought nothing of it, until she did a double take at what the sign said. It read, "Mrs. Peel . . ."  
  
The man hung another sign that said, "We're needed." The man lifted his head, and Emma realized he was John Steed. He tipped his bowler playfully, beckoning her inside.  
  
Emma was somewhat annoyed and amused at Steed, as she always was when he told her that they were needed. She still had no idea how he managed to know where she was all the time. She knew that being a secret agent must have something to do with it. With a little bemused smirk, she headed into the store.  
  
Emma approached Steed, who was busily removing the signs from the front window. "Well?" she began.  
  
"Well, what?" Steed asked nonchalantly as he leaned the two signs against the wall.  
  
"Well, what murder was committed this time?"  
  
"Sh, Mrs. Peel; spy talk is very hush, hush." Steed wandered over to a bowler hat display, Emma lagging behind him. He looked around himself, making sure no one had heard anything.   
  
Mrs. Peel inquired, "Is it a dozen bodies and no suspects?"  
  
"Actually, it's two weeks on a tropical island and no suitable clothes."  
  
"Is this trip for business or for pleasure?"  
  
"It's a business trip, but I hope to have some pleasure on the side." Steed smiled pleasantly, reveling at the thought of endless days with beautiful girls on a tropical paradise. "There's been several reports of," he and Mrs. Peel looked around themselves for eavesdroppers, "divers being killed near a little island in Caribbean."  
  
"Is there any connection among all the divers?"   
  
"Yes, they were all looking for the Fabled Treasure of Pirate R. Mebuckles. He supposedly was a pirate during the eighteenth century, who confiscated about 500,000 pounds in gold and silver."  
  
Mrs. Peel whistled admiringly at the large sum. "Who or what killed these divers?"  
  
"Nobody knows for certain, but the islanders believe that a great force pulled them under and whirled them around, causing them to lose consciousness and eventually die."  
  
"What sort of great force could do so much damage; a whirlpool?"  
  
"That's what I thought when I heard the tale. But a man, who was nearby at the time of the deaths, claims he heard a strange whirring noise, accompanied by a bright light."  
  
"It's all very puzzling, Steed. I don't know what to make of it."  
  
"That's why I'm going to investigate. Now which bowler should I buy for the trip, the black or the gray one?" He gingerly lifted both of the hats and stared at Mrs. Peel expectantly.  
  
Emma grabbed both hats and put them down. "Steed, of all the necessities you need to enjoy a tropical island, bowler hats are not one of them."   
  
Steed looked slightly offended at her comment, but he didn't make any derogatory reply. Instead he said, "Well, I asked you for your assistance in finding the proper clothing, so what should I bring with me?"  
  
  
Mrs. Peel seemed to be mulling over something important, for she didn't answer. "I've been thinking, Steed. You need someone else to go with you on this case, someone who can not only help you solve it, but someone to keep you company when you're across the sea."  
  
"That's a wonderful idea, Mrs. Peel," Steed replied affably. In a deep voice he said, "The plane leaves at one this afternoon. How long does it take you to pack?"  
  
"An hour at the most," she replied in a dulcet tone.   
  
Steed tipped his hat politely and declared, "I'll pick you up in two hours, Mrs. Peel."  
  
"I'll be waiting for you." Emma pranced assuredly out the door, her reddish brown hair bouncing with each step.  
  
Steed gazed admiringly after her, and then took the two bowlers to the front of the shop to purchase them. He didn't care what Mrs. Peel said; a bowler hat was a necessity anywhere.  
  
**********************  
  
Mrs. Cathy Gale scanned the busy museum and sighed happily. She loved her job as a curator almost as much as her job as an amateur spy. She remembered how Steed had first asked for her assistance at this museum. She had been eager to have some adventure and had agreed to help him, not knowing how crude and callous he could be. She and Steed made a rather strange crime-solving team, since they were almost opposite in every way. But over the course of time, they got accustomed to each other's habits.  
  
Perhaps over that time Steed grew rather fond of her, but Cathy never had the same feelings for him. True, she was a widow and could have fallen for the dashingly handsome man, but she hadn't. Maybe it was because she couldn't stand his rude ways, or maybe it was the fact that Steed was married. Yes, John Steed had married a woman by the name of Emma Knight, and the same year, he had been brainwashed by the head of the ministry to forget his marriage. His poor wife had been brainwashed to think she was the widow Mrs. Peel.  
  
Cathy could easily forgive Steed's boorish, flirtatious ways since she knew it wasn't entirely his fault. For two years she helped him solve numerous mysteries, saving his life more than once. Then she went on to several jobs until she was back to being a curator, enjoying the less than dangerous lifestyle. She knew that if she ever gotyou please tell me about this artifact?" he asked her.   
  
Cathy smiled briefly and went to the assistance of the stranger.   
  
***************************  
  
  
After Cathy had left Steed, Emma had become his second partner in crime. Then a murderer arrived, claiming to be her presumed dead husband, and Miss Tara King had become Steed's third partner. When he and Emma had learned the truth about their marriage (and of Emma's fake husband), Tara had been paired up with Basil Creighton-Latimer, who was the nephew of the head of the ministry. When Steed and Emma were brainwashed again, Tara became Steed's partner once more, much to the sorrow of Basil.   
  
Like Cathy, Tara wasn't brainwashed, so she carried the heavy burden of the truth with her. But unlike Cathy, she wouldn't ever give the secret away. She was in love with Steed, so she figured no one should have him. She was selfish, but she was also young, twenty-two years to be exact.  
  
Tara headed over to Steed's flat, eager to go out to lunch with him. She smoothed her red pantsuit and rang his doorbell expectantly.   
  
Steed answered it on the second ring. He was clutching the doorknob with one hand and holding a rack of ties in the other. He stared at her blankly for a moment and then commented sheepishly, "We had a luncheon appointment today, didn't we?"  
  
"You'd forgotten, Steed?" Tara cried incredulously. "You, who remembered the exact date we met, the year of the champagne we drank three weeks ago, how many bowler hats you've own in your lifetime, forgot we had a date?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Tara, but I was assigned to a tough case. I have to travel across an ocean just to arrive at my destination! I'm leaving today, and I had to pack immediately." Steed started climbing the stairs to his bedroom, but Tara checked him.   
  
"Oh, Steed, why didn't you tell me you were going! Here I was, thinking you were being inconsiderate by forgetting our date, when all the while you were just teasing me."  
  
Steed slowly descended his spiral staircase, staring confusedly at her. "I don't quite follow you, Tara."  
  
"Why, you're taking me with you, aren't you? I am, after all, your partner. It would be ridiculous if you didn't take me."  
  
"I--I . . . you're right about one thing. I am taking someone with me to help me with the case, but it's not you." Steed smiled nervously, waiting for a response.  
  
Tara's face fell to the floor and her lip began to quiver. She waited a moment to control herself and then asked tearfully, "Well, whom are you taking then?"  
  
Steed tried unsuccessfully to answer her without hurting her more than she already was. "I thought that maybe, uh, Mrs. Peel could accompany me this time." He made a feeble attempt to change the subject. "Would you care for a glass of champagne?"  
  
Dumbfounded, Tara stared at him, and then she let out a penetrating scream. "I can't believe you, Steed! I'm your partner, so I should go with you! How could you ask that- that- and after trying to keep you away from her!"  
  
"What are you carrying on about? Who was trying to keep who away from whom?" Steed glared at her, demanding an explanation.  
  
Tara stopped her ranting and grew wan. "Nobody was trying to do anything, Steed," she faltered quietly.   
  
"Hm," was all Steed said, which meant he didn't believe her for a moment. "Since my plane leaves at one and it's past twelve now, I suggest you hurry along so I can finish packing." Steed started ascending the stairs again. "I should have picked up Mrs. Peel by now," he muttered as he entered his bedroom.  
  
  
Tara stood at the foot of the staircase. No one had ever entered Steed's bedroom, except himself. Not even Emma had, since she and Steed had been living at her flat for the short duration when they were not brainwashed. They had been looking for another flat to rent when they had been brutally separated again.  
  
"If you expect me to forgive you just like that, you're gravely mistaken," Tara shouted. Then she flounced out of the apartment.  
  
If Steed ever heard her last remark, he made no reply. He just finished packing and ran out the door.  
  
*************************  
  
Mother, the head of the ministry, had never seen Tara irate before in his life. That's why when he saw her raging in his office, he knew something was seriously wrong. "What happened?" he demanded as he glided over to her in his wheelchair.  
  
"I was going to ask you the same thing! Why is it that Steed, who is my assigned partner, is taking Emma Knight Steed with him to-to wherever he says he's going?'  
  
"You mean to Paradisa Island? I can assure you I had no idea that Steed would do such a thing! I mean, he's done it before, like the several times he took Emma to France, and then there was that time he took her to Scotland for that case. But he never took any woman to the other side of the planet before."  
  
"It doesn't take much thought to know why he did it. He's in love with her, so it's only natural for him to want to spend as much time with her as possible."  
  
"Well, what should be done about it?" Mother puffed on his cigar before answering his own question. "I'll just send Mitchell after them!"  
  
"What will Mitchell do to them?" Tara inquired warily. She had the vaguest suspicion that Mother was planning to do something drastic, something that even she couldn't agree to.   
  
Her apprehension was verified when he explained to her, "Mitchell will take Mrs. Steed back to England with him, using physical force if need be. Then, if Steed and Emma continue to behave in such a romantic fashion, we'll separate them permanently . . . by brainwashing them, of course."  
  
Tara stared at him, utter turmoil wracking her brain and heart. She had been duped before into thinking this little brainwashing scheme was permissible, but now she realized it was wrong. She held her breath and nodded in agreement. She was lying to Mother, but he couldn't tell.  
  
She walked out of his office and down the hall right into a tall, brawny man. "Oh, Smyth, I didn't see you!" Tara exclaimed to the dark haired man in front of her.  
  
"That's quite obvious, Miss King." He stared at her indifferently, his British propriety getting the better of him.  
  
Tara meditated briefly as to whether she should tell Smyth the dastardly plan Mother had in store for the Steeds. Smyth was the only other agent, besides Cathy and now herself, who thought that brainwashing was an erroneous procedure. Finally she uttered in an almost inaudible voice, "Steed and Emma are in grave danger, Smyth. Mother is planning on separating them indefinitely, and though I love Steed, I must do what's best for him. We've got to stop Mother from sending Mitchell to Paradisa Island."  
Smyth smiled grimly and replied, "I'll get Cathy and then we'll see what we can do. When does the plane leave for the Island?"  
  
As if to answer his inquisition, Mother wheeled out of his office with Mitchell close behind him. "The plane leaves at one, but I don't think you can make it," he told Mitchell. "There's another plane that leaves at ten in the morning tomorrow. Be sure you're on it."  
  
"Yes, Mother, as you wish," Mitchell answered dutifully.  
  
Before they could be spotted, Smyth and Tara went their separate ways. It would be too conspicuous if they were both standing together in plain sight. Mother might realize they were scheming to sabotage his plan.  
  
Smyth drove over to the museum immediately after his discourse with Tara. He spotted Cathy only a second after he entered the building and advanced toward her quickly.  
  
Cathy's face lit up at the sight of Smyth, who was her beau. She instantly turned solemn at the sight of his grim face and asked, "What are they doing to Steed now?"  
  
"Oh, nothing much; Mother's just going to separate him and Emma forever."  
  
Cathy rolled her eyes in disgust. "Won't Mother ever learn that he can't win people's respect by controlling them? Furthermore, can't Steed fend for himself?"  
  
"Unfortunately, he can't under the circumstances. It's best not to grumble, my love, and just do our best to help them. Now, Steed and Emma are leaving today at one-" the clock began to chime one o'clock in response- "and Mitchell is following them tomorrow. My plan is: detain Mitchell and go on the airplane instead of him. Tara will be helping us so-"  
  
"Expect everything to go amiss." Cathy sighed and shook her head. "The things I have to tolerate in order to save you, John Steed."  
  
************************  
  
Steed smiled as Mrs. Peel hopped into his old Bentley. She stuffed her luggage in the back, turned to face him, and smiled. Suddenly she scrunched her forehead up in pain and clutched her stomach.  
  
"Are you all right, Mrs. Peel?" Steed asked, genuine concern in his voice.  
  
Emma breathed heavily for several minutes and then attempted to smile reassuringly. "I'm quite all right, Steed. I just got a bit nauseous for a moment, but it's nothing to get upset over. I hear there's a bout of the stomach flu circulating the area. If you want to let me off right now, I can understand. The last thing you need is to come down with a sickness while on a case."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of doing any such thing, just as long as you think you can manage?"  
  
"I think I can just pull myself together." Steed stared at her, still not convinced. "You'd better start driving, or we'll never get to the airport on time," she reminded him, and finally Steed shifted the car into gear.  
  
Emma was more concerned than she pretended to be, for she had only just began to feel ill. Her queasy constitution did not improve any on the long flight across the Atlantic, and by the time they landed in New York, Emma was tired and sicker than before. She thought she hid her illness quite effectively, for Steed didn't ever ask how she was feeling.   
  
However, Steed was still very much aware of her sickly state, and he was beginning to wonder if he should have brought her along in the first place.  
  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
  
Note: I know, you're probably thinking, "Why did you brainwash them to forget they were married again?" Well, I did it because it just wouldn't be an Avengers episode or fic if Mrs. Peel and Steed didn't have that erotic/platonic relationship that made the couple famous. If they knew that they were married, they wouldn't have a platonic relationship, now would they? Don't worry; they will discover the truth once more. 


	2. Second Day

Second Day  
  
Cathy stared out at the airport terminal, her face concealed behind a newspaper. From a nearby vantage, Smyth stood solemnly and sedately. Since Smyth was disguised in a mustache, a gray derby, and glasses, it was difficult for Cathy to recognize him.   
  
The two, plus Tara, were waiting for Mitchell to arrive. The plan was that before Mitchell could board the plane that was leaving for Paradisa Island, Tara would distract him and detain him. Meanwhile, Mrs. Gale and Mr. Smyth would board the plane, unbeknownst to Mitchell. After Tara had completed her job, she would go home and wait for further instructions from Cathy and Smyth.  
  
As a dozen of agitated thoughts filled her head, Cathy started pacing the floor, but checked herself just in time. What if they had missed Mitchell, and he was already sitting comfortably on the airplane? What if he had gotten wind of their scheme and had decided to take a private plane to the island? Mrs. Gale sighed and nearly stomped her foot in frustration.  
  
Smyth was much more serene compared to the amateur spy, Cathy. In fact, he seemed almost bored of the whole procedure. Suddenly, Smyth became alert as he spotted Mitchell sauntering jauntily across the floor. To inform Cathy, Smyth gave an unnoticeable signal: he flicked his right hand ever so slightly.  
  
In return, Cathy made an inconspicuous gesture to Tara, who had been hidden in a telephone booth for the last twenty minutes. Casually, Cathy brushed some of her blond hair behind her left ear and waited. In a matter of seconds, Tara emerged from the booth and walked right in plain view of Mitchell. The plan seemed to be running very smoothly.  
  
Mitchell marched towards the awaiting plane, but stopped short at the sight of Tara King advancing in the same direction. "Tara, baby, what are you doing here?" When it came to flirting, compared to Mitchell, Steed was an angel. Mitchell smiled debonairly at Tara, oblivious to the fact that she was his nemesis at the moment.  
  
Tara used the rather insulting reputation she had earned of being brainless to aid her in her act. "I want to help you and Steed, so I decided I'd surprise you both by sneaking onto the plane!" She feigned a naive smile and waited for the inevitable reaction.  
  
Mitchell dropped his suitcases in alarm and began to stutter. After several indistinguishable sentences, he managed to say, "Listen, love, you cannot, under any circumstances, go with me, you understand? This is an assignment for the strong, sturdy, and brave agents."  
  
Tara thought of a quick line of dialogue and spoke it with genuine sincerity. "I'm brave and sturdy as the-what do you call it? -Rock of Gibraltar!" To emphasize the point, Tara hefted one of his suitcases onto her shoulder. Without planning to, she dropped the heavy luggage with a groan. She rubbed her arms in sheer pain.  
  
While Mitchell leaned over to assist the afflicted Tara, Smyth and Mrs. Gale quickly grabbed their luggage and scuttled to the appointed airplane. Ten minutes later they were seated in the back row, alert in case their plan went amiss.  
  
  
Meanwhile, Tara had begun babbling, something she wasn't accustomed to doing. She ranted about the modern technology that allowed man to travel the globe in such a short period. She raved about the beauty of planes and their structures. After several minutes of blabbering, Tara had to look at the ceiling as if it might help her find for the right words to continue her interminable speech. She gasped for air, and the dumfounded Mitchell started to walk away from her. Tara dashed after him, and in an attempt to stop him shouted, "Please, don't leave me darling!"  
  
Mitchell's head, along with numerous others, turned to stare at her. "Was it my imagination, or did you call me 'darling'?" he asked, pleasure noticeable in his voice.  
  
Tara flushed violently and replied, "I don't- I mean, I wasn't paying attention to what I was saying. It must have been a little slip of the tongue and all that."  
  
Mitchell smiled and approached her, while she began to back up. "I think it was a Freudian slip, my love." He flashed his pearly white teeth once more, and chuckled in delight.  
  
Tara counted to ten and decided that if Smyth and Cathy weren't on the plane, it was their own fault. She smiled tentatively, not wanting to encourage the indomitable flirt, and then made a mad scurry for the door. In her haste she ran into the door, not out of it. Tara swore she saw stars before her world went black.  
  
******************  
  
Tara opened a weary eye and gazed at her surroundings. She was on the airport floor, enveloped by what seemed incalculable people, all staring curiously at her. There, rubbing her hand was Mitchell, who was murmuring quiet apologies to her.  
  
Tara lifted her head slowly and felt a twinge of pain in the front of her face. She moaned softly as she noticed the aching in her arms for the first time. "What happened?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.  
  
"You ran into the door and have been out cold for five minutes," was Mitchell's automatic response. He looked at his watch and frowned slightly. "And I'm going to miss my plane if I don't hurry."  
  
Tara likewise peered at his watch and noticed with some glee that it read three minutes to ten a.m., the appointed departure time for his plane. "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry, Mitchell, but I fear you're going to miss that flight. I suppose you'll have to wait until tomorrow to go on your assignment."  
  
"I have to make that flight," Mitchell whined, his voice rising on each syllable. "My ticket is only good for today, and I'm positive Mother won't pay for another plane ticket. They're so expensive these days!"  
  
Tara's light blue eyes turned sympathetic, for she knew that Mother was apt to get in a fit of rage since Mitchell botched up his assignment. "I really don't know what to tell you Mitchell, except, 'I'm sorry, and I hope this won't hamper our professional relationship." She arose slowly and, smiling courteously, exited the vicinity.   
  
Tara had completed her mission successfully.  
  
********************  
  
Steed and Emma arrived in Paradisa, and it was not surprising that they were both exhausted. Their internal clocks told them it was time for bed, but it was still late afternoon in the Caribbean. Steed longed for a good glass of brandy to help his nerves, and Emma wanted to relax in her hotel room for the remainder of the day.   
  
"Here is your appointed room, Sir," a kind African American porter told Steed.  
  
  
Steed sighed with satisfaction at the suite and strolled over to a large window. "What a beautiful room this is, with a beautiful view of the," he lifted a lace curtain, "car park?"  
  
Emma joined him at the window and peered at the myriad of cars below them. "Maybe later on we can watch the heat waves rise and fall on the asphalt while the sun sets in the background. Won't that make a picturesque scene?"  
  
"Well, I don't think I'd use those terms," Steed muttered irritably.  
  
"Care to see my room, or do you think the windows look out on the same lovely landscapes?" Emma asked dryly.  
  
"I'll be more than happy to accompany you to your room." Steed brightened up a bit and added, "My lady, thy chambers doth await thee." Emma held out her hand regally, and Steed held it with equal dignity as he escorted her across the hall. The porter stared at them strangely, utterly confused.  
  
Emma's view appeared to be much more rewarding. It gazed out at a perfectly golden beach, luscious green palms, and the crystal, blue sea.  
  
After the porter had placed all of Mrs. Peel's luggage neatly against the wall and had departed, Steed turned to his associate. "I'll exchange my room and three bottles of champagne for your room," he offered earnestly.  
  
Emma laughed at his childish behavior. "It may surprise you, but I rather fancy this room with the lovely view of the ocean to yours." Steed began to grumble and to avoid an argument, Emma asked, "From this resort, how far is it to the scene of the crimes?"  
  
"The strange incidents were reportedly seen about a quarter of a mile down that beach from here." Steed pointed out the window at the seemingly perfect beach below. It was difficult to believe that murders had been committed on the heavenly isle. "All the diving gear was borrowed from a little scuba shop and school that is located several miles from the resort."  
  
"Do you think it has some sort of connection to the deaths?"  
  
"I'm not sure about anything at the moment; that's why I'm going to have a look around. Why don't you inquire about scuba lessons down at the shop?"  
  
"I'm not feeling very well, and I'm tired, Steed," Emma declared in a pitiful tone. "Why don't you investigate by yourself this time? I'll meet you down in the lobby, and we can go to dinner somewhere in the resort; all right?  
  
Steed had never heard Emma use that excuse in order to get out of a job. He glanced at her warily and was astonished at how weak she looked, as if she would topple over in a matter of minutes if she didn't sit. He conceded to her fervent entreaty, and went to change into some cooler attire.   
  
When Steed was dressed in a very un-Steedish outfit, which consisted of shorts and a tee shirt, he went to explore the area himself. He wandered into the lobby and inquired of the receptionist, "Excuse me, but how do I get to the scuba diving shop from here?"   
  
The receptionist pointed to a side door and explained, "When you go out that door, you will be by the pool and Tiki bar. Take a turn to the right and-"  
  
"I'll reach the scuba shop?" Steed asked.  
  
"No, you'll see the little patio cafe and grill. If you want to get to the scuba diving shop you must follow the sandy path by the cafe, and that will lead you to the beach. Take a right turn and head along the coast for a half mile, and you'll soon reach it."  
  
After hearing such confusing instructions, Steed wasn't sure he could find the beach, but he did. He leisurely strolled down the beach, his casual shoes sinking into the golden granules of sand.   
  
Suddenly, he heard angry and demanding voices coming toward him. "Larraine, you are being unreasonable," a male voice complained. "I'll a want his my fair share of the family inheritance."  
  
"How many times do I have to tell you that you are not closely related enough to the Crabbe family, and therefore don't get any of the treasure?" a female voice replied peevishly.  
  
At the word "treasure," Steed began to listen even more intently. However the argumentative couple had spotted Steed and immediately went their separate ways.  
  
Disappointed, but not undaunted, Steed trudged father along the beach. Finally, he spotted the scuba diving shop in the far distance, and soon he was on the front stoop.   
  
The building was dark and deserted, but this did not discourage the indomitable spy for a moment. Steed glanced warily around, making sure no one was in sight, and then tried the door. It was unlocked, so he let himself into the shop.  
  
The store smelled strongly of saltwater and rubber, the rubber smell being from the masks and some of the other gear. Steed waited a moment to become accustomed to the darker building. However, it didn't take long since there was a window emitting the sun's rays into the room.  
  
He was about to investigate the premises, when he was tackled to the ground. "I thought I told you the treasure wasn't in here?" a familiar voice demanded.   
  
Steed looked up at his attacker and beheld a very voluptuous woman in her early thirties. He realized she was the woman he had seen on the beach earlier, the one called Larraine. "I do beg your pardon!" Steed replied in his distinguished voice.  
  
Larraine looked utterly sheepish as she climbed off him. "I'm terribly sorry, Sir," she said with a distinctive English accent.  
  
"You're British!" Steed exclaimed incredulously.  
  
"So are you," she replied smartly. "My name is Larraine Crabbe, great-great-great-great-grandniece to R. Mebuckles. I own this shop with my father, and we each teach a bit of diving ourselves." Miss Crabbe moved behind the store counter and began rearranging several deep-sea equipment pieces. She looked up from her work and asked, "The shop was closed for lunch, so what were you doing in it?"  
  
Steed was prepared for this inquisition, so he answered, "I wanted to rent some scuba gear, and since the door was unlocked, I thought the store was opened. I was looking for some assistance when you assaulted me."  
  
Larraine seemed to believe him for she apologized profusely once more.   
  
"I don't really mind being attacked by a woman," Steed replied flirtatiously.  
  
Miss Crabbe rolled her eyes, not amused. "You're just like Paris, egotistical and obnoxious."  
  
"I've never been compared to a city before, but I guess being compared to Paris, France is all right."  
  
"Paris is my third cousin twice removed on my mother's side. He's American, but he was born in Paris. His real name is Alfred, but his parents nicknamed him Paris, which he was really grateful for."  
  
Steed listened to this whirlwind of information, wondering what it had to do with him. Finally she stopped, and he was able to ask her, "I saw you on the beach, and I couldn't help overhearing you mention something about a treasure. You can't mean that R. Mebuckles' treasure belongs to you?"  
  
"It does indeed, though Paris seems to think it's partly his and his family's. What right does an American have in owning British treasure?"  
  
"What right indeed?" Steed agreed just to be polite. "Tell me, if you're so against America, why aren't you back in England at this very moment?"  
  
"Why, my father brought me down here when I was a little girl, shortly after my mother died. All his life he's wanted to get the family treasure, and all his life he's failed. For ten years, I've been helping him, but it's been to no avail. Now with all of this publicity, I'm sure we're never going to find it."  
  
"You said you're only a great etcetera niece. Isn't there closer relatives than you?"  
  
Larraine bristled at this comment and snapped, "There certainly is not, and don't you be forgetting it!"  
  
"There now, don't yell at this stranger, Lara! You only yell at the ones you love!" A young man entered the building, a cocky air about him.   
  
"Paris, get out of here this minute!" Larraine looked ready to strangle the brawny fellow, and Steed was certain that she was capable of doing it.   
  
"I came to get my scuba gear, and don't be denying me that privilege like yesterday." Paris slid over the counter and began grabbing various instruments and articles of clothing.   
  
"May I rent some as well, Miss Crabbe?" Steed asked in his debonair way.  
  
"No, no, no, man, just call her Larraine. She hasn't been called 'Miss Crabbe' since college, and that was many years ago." Paris grinned foppishly as he hefted a big oxygen tank onto his shoulder.   
  
Larraine almost screamed at his insulting manner, but she composed herself enough to say, "Do you need any lessons on how to deep sea dive?"  
  
Steed smiled and replied, "No, I've had a lot of experience, so I think I can manage." Steed had learned how to scuba dive when he had been trained to be a spy. He couldn't do it for a living, but he was capable of diving in perilous waters if the need arouse.   
  
"Very well, sir, I'll just have to get a few measurements so I can select the perfect suit for you. I hope you won't mind." Larraine held out a measuring tape, waiting expectantly.  
  
"I wouldn't mind at all." Steed grinned impishly as he extended his arms to the side.  
  
Paris scoffed at Steed's conduct, but he didn't say anything about it. "Listen, I'm heading out to visit your Pop."  
  
"Don't you dare go to our diving site, Paris Brown!" Larraine shouted at him.  
  
"Someone has to protect him from the dangers lurking in the water." Paris seemed to think this excuse sufficed, for he exited the store.  
  
"Stay away from our diving site!" Larraine bellowed after him.  
  
Steed realized that if he left now, he could follow Paris to the Crabbes' diving spot. He was very suspicious about Larraine's over protective behavior, and he thought that perhaps she and her father were hiding something down at their spot, something that could cause whirlpools and bright lights.  
  
"Listen, I just realized that I had a manicure appointment down at the hotel, and I'll be terribly late if I don't hurry. How about we get all my equipment tomorrow?" Steed clasped his hands together, a persuasive look set across his rugged countenance.  
  
"That's perfectly fine with me, Mr.-"  
  
"The name is Steed, John Steed."  
  
"Good day to you then, Mr. Steed." Larraine watched him leave and then said to herself, "What kind of a man gets manicures?"  
  
By the time Steed left the shop, Paris was just a speck on the massive beach. However, this was a good development, since now Steed could follow him without being detected. Steed began his pursuit, heading in the opposite direction from the hotel. He hoped Larraine was not spying on him as he marched ever nearer to Paris.  
  
After walking a half-mile, Steed realized that Paris had arrived at his destination. Mr. Brown began yelling hellos to an older man who was skimming the surface of the water. From all that he had learned, Steed deduced that the older man was Mr. Crabbe. Stealthily, Steed crept behind a palm tree, straining his ears to hear bits of the conversation. .  
  
"I've come to help you look for the treasure, Mr. Crabbe!" Paris told the older man as he hefted the oxygen tank on his back.  
  
"You certainly are eager to find that treasure," Mr. Crabbe remarked.  
  
"Can I help it if all of a sudden everyone is looking for it? We've got to act quickly, or someone will steal it right from under our noses."  
  
"I don't know if we will find it, after all the curse-"  
  
"Curse, smirch; there is no curse, old man."  
  
Steed noticed that several bystanders were approaching. To avoid being discovered, Steed had to stop his spying and head back to the hotel. He'd have to return to the spot later.  
  
*****************  
  
Emma stretched leisurely on her sofa, and then rose. She was feeling invigorated, and that was a sure sign that she was able to do her work. Emma thought over all the information she had so far.   
  
Somewhere off the coast of the Caribbean, bright lights and a strong current had killed several divers. She and Steed both didn't know exactly where this had occurred, except that it was a about a quarter of a mile down the beach from the hotel. Realizing it wasn't much to go on, Emma sighed.   
  
She changed into her green velvety cat suit with the white strings woven through the arms. Properly attired, she found her way to the lobby. She needed to find a person familiar with the island that could tell her the exact location where the incidents had taken place. She looked about herself and noticed that a rather short man was staring at her.  
  
The man approached her and addressed her, "Excuse me, you seem lost. Perhaps I could be of some service?" He had a mellow voice, the kind that could sooth and mesmerize plenty of people.   
  
"Yes, I was looking for a person who knows the island and the Caribbean fairly well."  
  
"Well, I guess you came to the right person, or rather, the right person came to you! My name is Professor Hardy Korall. What do you need to know about Paradisa?"  
  
"I just like to find out where the unfortunate incident with the several divers took place. You see, I'm a reporter and am very interested to know if what the rumors say about the flashing lights and the strong currents are true. You could call me a rather curious tourist or a top notch journalist." Emma played the part of Ms. Reporter flawlessly, and the stranger couldn't tell for an instant that she was really an amateur spy.  
  
Hardy Korall's eyes narrowed into slits as Emma spoke. "Now, listen here, we don't need any busybodies sticking their noses in where they don't belong. This island has been living up to its name for the last two hundred years, and it won't be turned into hell by a bunch of tourist coming here to investigate something two people claim to have seen." With this last rude remark, Mr. Korall flounced angrily away from the bewildered Mrs. Peel.  
  
Emma made her way to the front desk and asked the receptionist, "Excuse me, is there someone living nearby who's an expert on this isle?"  
  
"Why, that would be Captain Weed! He lives up in the lighthouse, that's about a quarter of a mile from here ma'am. Just take a left turn when you reach the beach, and you'll be there in no time." The receptionist smiled amiably as Mrs. Peel thanked him and left.   
  
Emma diligently followed the clerk's instructions, and an exquisite little lighthouse soon came into view. Emma recalled that the strange occurrences had taken place somewhere around this area. She scanned the sea, hoping to spot some sort of clue, be it minute or colossal. She saw nothing of importance, however.  
  
Mrs. Peel bounded up the several steps that led up to the door of the modest cottage connected to the lighthouse. She noted a rickety, wooden sigh with the words, C. Weed carved into them. Knowing for sure that this was the right residence, she smiled slightly and knocked on the door.   
  
The door creaked open a bit, and a bedraggled head protruded from the shadows. "What do ye what, ye scallywag?" If ye is thinkin that I'll be givin ye more information about the curse, ye is sadly mistaken. I don't like trespassers, especially ye crazy scientists, ye hear?"   
  
He began shutting the door, but Emma held out a strong hand to check him. "I'm not a scientist, Captain Weed."  
  
Captain Weed surveyed her apparel and remarked, "Aye, ye certainly ain't a scientist, I can see that. "Well, I guess ye can come inside for a short while, providing ye behave yeself and don't ask too many impertinent questions."  
  
As she entered, Emma smiled, amused at his mannerisms. "I'm Mrs. Emma Peel, and I'm sorry to bother you, Captain Weed. But the clerk at the resort told me that you knew the most about the island, and since I needed someone's expert advice an a certain matter that concerned Paradisa Isle, I knew you were the perfect person to come to."  
  
Captain Weed was relatively pleased at this comment and became more at ease. "I'm sorry about my behavior before, my dear, but I get tired of these scientist coming around asking a lot of ill mannered questions about the curse."  
  
"What curse are you talking about, Captain Weed?"   
  
"Why the curse of R. Mebuckles, of course. Ye don't think that the strange bright lights and strong current are an everyday occurrence. No, it's the curse coming true after these many years.   
  
"See, the pirate R. Mebuckles was sailing along the coast of the Caribbean, trying to find a place to anchor his vessel so he could get on the island and raid the natives. Suddenly out of the blue, a storm came up, and his ship sank to the bottom of the sea, his treasures going down with him. It is said the storm was from the wrath of God, finally getting revenge on the vicious Mebuckles."  
  
For many years, no one dared try to find the treasure, for fear that they too would be caught in a storm and drown. Nobody, until recently has searched for his treasure. That's what the bright lights and the whirlpools are, the curse coming alive."  
  
"It's very interesting, but why on earth do scientists want to know about a curse?" Emma seated herself on a decrepit couch.  
  
"They're trying to prove that it's not really a curse at all, but just some natural occurrence. But I know better, and so do most of the inhabitants of the island. Now if only Hardy Korall and his lot of scientists would leave me and everyone else alone."  
  
Emma sat up straight at the mention of Hardy Korall's name. She pretended to be ignorant of anything and asked, "Why do they keep bothering you?"  
  
"Well, I know the most about the island's history and geography, so they come to me persistently asking these questions. Besides, ye can see the whole phenomenon from me lighthouse. Here, I'll show ye the exact spot, if ye like." Captain Weed gestured for Emma to follow him as he left his home and entered the actual lighthouse.   
  
The two climbed steep, winding stairs until they reached the top where the beacon was. Captain Weed pointed to a spot in the sea halfway between the lighthouse and the resort.   
  
As Emma examined the area, a strange, incessant whirring noise began, growing louder every moment. Then an eerie green light appeared in the part of the sea that Captain Weed had motioned to. Great waves continuously sloshed up and down, becoming larger as the time passed.   
  
Suddenly a cry for help resounded through the air, and Emma and the captain spotted a lone diver bobbing around in the water. His head went under, and he disappeared from sight. Just as abruptly as it had started, the mystifying phenomenon ended.  
  
"Aye, let that be a lesson to ye: never swim alone." The captain shook his head despondently, and began descending the staircase. "Now do ye believe in the curse?" he yelled to Emma.  
  
Emma didn't respond, for she was to busy staring at the once so violent, but now tranquil waters. She seemed to have snapped back to reality, for she quickly dashed after the sailor. "Do you think the treasure lies near that spot?"  
  
"I certainly do, m'dear, and that young diver we saw, was looking for it, no doubt. Well, now that ye have seen the curse for yourself, what is it I can do for ye?"  
  
"I-I just wanted to know the best spot for sailing. I've got a little sailboat that I've been wanting to use, and I need to know where the coral beds and the strong currents are, so I can avoid them."  
  
"Well, a sail boat is nothing compared to the fifty-footer ship I sailed in my days, but I guess it's good enough for beginners." Captain Weed stepped into the adjacent house once more and said, "Come, I'll show ye me maps, providing ye can read them."  
  
"I think I can manage all right."  
  
After Emma listened to Captain Weed's lecture about the best routes for her imaginary sailboat with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, she returned to her hotel room. She called Steed's room number and told him that she was back from her excursion.  
  
Steed promptly replied that he'd be over in less than a minute. He kept his word, which was easy to do, since his room was only across the hall from Emma's. "Well, Mrs. Peel, I hope you had a more successful hunt than I did."  
  
"Yes, I actually witnessed the curse of R. Mebuckles."  
  
Steed stared blankly at her and inquired, "Are you sure you weren't dozing on the sofa for the last several hours, Mrs. Peel?"  
  
Emma Peel grinned as she answered, "No, I was talking with Captain Weed, the owner of the lighthouse, who claims that the deaths of the several divers was caused by the curse."  
  
"So you actually saw this strange phenomenon?"   
  
"Yes, and unfortunately, a diver happened to be in the water at the time, so-"  
  
"Now the diver is no more." Steed finished for her. "That makes five scuba divers who have been killed by this great force. I hope Larraine and her father are not added to the list."  
  
"Two hours in Paradise, and you've not only met a girl but also her father. I call that working quickly. Tell me, since you've met the father does this me you'll be settling down?" Emma smiled coyly at the now grinning Steed.  
  
"I believe that Ms. Larraine Crabbe thinks nothing of me except as a customer of her and her father's scuba diving shop. Besides, she's related to R. Mebuckles, so who knows what terrible traits have been carried through generations."  
  
"Well, I know the exact location where the murders took place, so unless the Crabbes are diving near that area, you need not worry for your," Emma paused and batted her eyelashes, "friend." She clearly was implying that she thought Steed and Larraine were more than just friends.  
  
"They were searching for the treasure about half a mile away from the shop. I was spying on Mr. Crabbe and this chap name Paris, and so far it seems they haven't found anything."  
  
"Of course they haven't since the treasure is miles away from there. It's located halfway between the lighthouse and the resort."  
  
"You mean I wasted my day, almost getting caught spying several times for nothing?" Steed demanded angrily.  
  
"I'm afraid so, Steed, but don't worry about it." Emma was entirely amused at his sulky behavior. When Steed remained embittered, Emma declared, "Someone hasn't had their champagne today." She headed to the built-in bar and began examining its contents. Emma found the champagne and handed the bottle to the annoyed Steed.  
  
He methodically popped the cork and passed the bottle back to his companion. After he had sipped his champagne, though, his mood lightened considerably. "Oh well, tomorrow we'll go scuba diving together, if you're feeling up to it. I think halfway between the lighthouse and resort is a superb spot."  
  
Emma was about to sip her champagne, but she stopped when she heard his dialogue. "You can't be serious, Steed, for after all, nobody's been able to safely look for the treasure there. It's not as if we know who's doing these dastardly deeds and can stop them from doing it again. We know nothing except the location of the place."  
  
"No, we have several suspects, including, I'll admit, Miss Crabbe and her crew." Steed seemed to be remembering the buxom Larraine Crabbe.  
  
"And Captain Weed is very suspicious, the way he carries on about the curse, trying desperately to convince everybody of it. He could be the one behind it, just using the curse as an excuse. And then there's Hardy Korall, a scientist, trying to find the reasonable explanation for the strange deaths."  
  
"What's so conspicuous about that, may I ask?"  
  
"Well, he nearly chewed my head off earlier when I asked him about the bizarre incidents. He told me to mind my own business." She glanced at her watch and exclaimed, "It's nearly time for tea!" She set her champagne glass down before she could even have a drink.   
  
Steed noted how quickly she had discarded her champagne and immediately became alarmed. "You must still be sick if you can forget about champagne that easily!"  
  
Emma tried to smile, but found it difficult. "I guess I am a little queasy, but I'll be fine."  
  
"The resort has its own doctor; maybe you should pay him a visit."   
  
"If you insist, Steed, I'll go right after tea." Even as she spoke, Emma wondered if she could last that long.  
  
To Be Continued! 


	3. First Afternoon

First Afternoon  
  
Emma grimly marched into one of the hotel's elevators, counting the seconds it took to get to the front lobby. She was certain that she was heading to her impending doom. Even the tranquil fountain that stood tall and ornate in the middle of the lobby couldn't lift her spirits.  
  
Like most English people, she hated the dentist and dreaded the doctor. She knew they were there for her benefit and health, but she couldn't get over the fear that they were dishonest and greedy blackguards. With much trepidation she took a right turn down the marble hallway that Steed had indicated and began her search for the surgery. She soon spotted the small, but clean office and entered.  
  
The waiting room was not much bigger than Emma's bedroom back in her suite. Several orange vinyl chairs were placed against the three free walls, and various patients were squirming uncomfortably in the seats. One man was clutching his figure in pain, while a woman was rubbing her stomach and muttering, "I knew that food was poisonous."   
  
That's when it occurred to Emma that perhaps she had been poisoned! After all, since she worked with Steed the spy all the time she was liable to get many suspicious characters trying to dispose of her. Emma frowned slightly at this disturbing notion, but her thoughts were interrupted by a soft, crystalline voice.  
  
"May I help you?" a nurse, complete with uniform, politely asked Mrs. Peel. She sat behind desk that aligned the fourth wall. A door stood to the left of her, the door that led to the examining room.  
  
Emma approached the desk unperturbedly as she replied, "Yes, I would like to see the doctor if it isn't inconvenient." Emma was back to her composed self once more.  
  
The nurse smiled affably and assured Emma Peel that it wasn't. "What seems to be bothering you, Miss-"  
  
"Mrs. Emma Peel," Emma answered, "and I've been having terrible nausea, acute dizziness, and weakness." Mrs. Peel looked about herself to make sure no personage was eavesdropping and added, "I've come to the conclusion that I've been poisoned."  
  
The nurse tried to hide her amusement at this "commoner" and told Emma that the doctor would see her shortly.  
  
Emma eased herself into a chair and began perusing a fashion magazine with greatest interest. It seemed to her that every single model in the magazine was sporting a fashion she had worn several years earlier. "Hmm, that means I'm ahead of my time," Emma mused with some delight.  
  
After thirty minutes of waiting, Emma's name was finally called. She bravely passed through the door and entered the appointed room. Sighing, she seated herself on the examining table. She was about to begin swing her dangling legs when a tall man of about thirty-five years entered.  
  
He had almost black hair and dark brown eyes to match. His dark eyebrows were scrunched together in thought, and he didn't even notice Emma until she cleared her throat. He glanced at the chart the nurse had filled out and given to him. "It says your name is Mrs. Emma Peel; is that correct?" Considering his masculine looks, he had a rather high, gravelly voice.  
  
"Yes, that's right." Emma surveyed him once more and remarked, "You're from England like me, doctor!"  
  
"Lots of Englishmen and women migrate to Paradisa Island from their native home. I've been here for several years, and I enjoy every minute of it. It gives me a thrill to know I'm helping people feel healthy."  
  
Emma smiled at the energetic doctor, but made no comment. The physician turned a wary eye on her and asked, "Your husband and you on a vacation, Mrs. Peel?"  
  
"Actually, my husband has disappeared in the Amazon, and I'm here on business."  
  
"Well, I'm sorry for both. It's terrible to spend your days in this Paradise, cooped up in some meeting or other. I live here so I can enjoy the weather and the beaches whenever I want." The doctor gazed forlornly into space before adding, "Anyway, I couldn't go back to England even if I wanted to." He snapped out of his reverie, cleared his throat, and said, "I'm Dr. Martin King, and so what is troubling you?"  
  
After his confiding remark about not being able to return to Great Britain, Emma's uneasiness had returned. She had known too many villainous doctors to not be suspicious of this one. "I think that I've been poisoned."  
  
"Food poisoned?" the doctor asked as he made notes on Emma's chart.  
  
"I'm not positive."  
  
Dr. King looked up from his papers and stared in alarm. "You mean it may have been a deliberate poisoning? Well, it couldn't have been something too lethal, or you'd be dead."  
  
"I'm quite aware of that, Dr. King, but nevertheless, I believe I have been unjustly harmed by some maniac."  
  
"Do you have any enemies who would do this to you?"  
  
"Not that I know of, but in my line of business anything is possible."  
  
"What do you do for a living?"  
  
"My partner and I- we work for the government, and you know how there are so many people opposed to the government right now."  
  
"Hmm, yes, so many attempted assassinations are being made, and young people protesting in the streets. You can't turn anywhere without some violent uprising being started or ended by these rebels. So you and your partner are here on some business for the government? Funny, I didn't think there could be partners in politics."  
  
Emma pretended not to hear his last comment and merely smiled politely. She watched Dr. King as he scribbled on her chart and couldn't resist asking, "You're not related to Miss Tara King are you, by any chance?"  
  
Martin King looked at her in surprise as he replied, "No, I've never heard of the lady before."  
  
Emma almost grinned as she declared, "That is such a relief to know, Dr. King. Tara, though extremely lovely and beautiful, is not exactly the brightest of women. I am not one to criticize my own sex, but Tara is the exception. Besides, she's very much in love with my partner, which is very bad for business."  
  
"I would like to do the preliminary examination on you, like checking your blood pressure, etcetera. Then we'll check your blood for poisoning."  
  
Emma nodded, wincing at the thought of pain. "Perhaps we could avoid such tests. I have an acute aversion to pain."  
  
"Most people do, you know, Mrs. Peel. The only man I can think of that managed never to be frightened in the sight of danger and pain was John Steed. I wonder what happened to him, after these eight years? He's probably dead, the old fool."  
  
Emma gawked at him in a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. "What your connection was to Steed I have no idea, but he is and never was an 'old fool.' I suppose he was a bit crass for awhile, but he was never foolish in any regard."  
  
Martin King seemed to be in a shocked stupor, for he merely stared at his patient, his mouth agape. "You know John Steed personally? Well, then you must be aware that he's a-a spy?"  
  
"Dr. King, I'm his amateur partner at present. Of course I know what he is for a living!"  
  
"This has been a very surprising day for me! Mrs. Peel, I know you're hardly in the mood to be physically examined, but I'm afraid if I'm to figure out your problem, we'll have to get off the subject of Steed."  
  
Emma conceded, and a half hour later, she was on her way back to her hotel room. After the examination, Dr. King had informed her of his former partnership with Steed many years ago. From the tone in King's voice, Mrs. Peel had inferred that he was not too fond of Steed or his methods in spying. Emma smiled mischievously at the prospect of telling Steed of her encounter with the severe Dr. Martin King.  
  
Emma entered her room only to discover that Steed had retired to his own room. Unconcerned about her little blunder, Emma advanced to Steed's suite. She smiled nonchalantly as she entered the living area of Steed's hotel room and seated herself on a plush couch.   
  
Steed was staring intently at a map of the Caribbean Sea, scribbling graphs whenever he deemed it necessary. He finally glanced up from his work and smiled appreciatively at the presence of his partner in crime. "Did the doctor discover what was ailing you?"  
  
"Yes, he told me I was suffering from a severe case of John-Steed-tosis. He said to avoid you like the plague, and my symptoms will gradually subside." Emma Peel laughed when she noted the bewildered look on Steed's face. "For some reason or other Dr. Martin King doesn't like you much. Perhaps you could clarify that little problem for me?"  
  
Steed nodded in recognition of the name and began to chuckle in sort of rueful manner. "I knew that Martin King was hiding somewhere in the Caribbean, but I never dreamed it would be on this tiny speck of an island! I suppose I ought to tell you why King begrudges me so, though I'm a little afraid to."  
  
"That's not like you, Steed. Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?"  
  
"I'm certain you're going to fell sorry for King and cast me as an evil villain of some sorts, that's all," Steed protested defensively. "Anyway, this all occurred a while back, before Mrs. Gale, Venus Smith, or you." He smiled here before continuing, "I was ruthless back then, much more so than King; he was merely a practitioner of medicine, trying to help those many unhealthy citizens of our Mother Country. I would often call on him to help me with my cases, just like I ask you to assist me now.  
  
"On this particular mission, an important ruler's life was in danger. One of the ministry's own men was guilty of selling secrets to the enemy, who were determined to assassinate this ruler. My good friend was soon found to be the betrayer, and he unfortunately kidnapped King. However, this man had the tactlessness to kidnap King at gunpoint in front of his ignorant wife. Persuading his wife that King was the evil one and he was merely protecting her from certain perils, our nemesis proceeded to leave his house, still pointing a gun at King's back.  
  
"I had suspected trouble, so I was waiting in the shadows for King and our enemy to appear. When they did, I only had one choice: I had to shoot this man. I often handled guns in those days, so I was quite prepared to use the weapon. Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger and watched our fellow agent die.   
  
"King and I quickly dashed off to save the foreign ruler from his death, leaving the body outside on the front lawn.** The wife soon grew uneasy when her husband didn't return, so she finally went out in search of him. She saw the body and-"  
  
"She naturally concluded that King was the murderer," Emma interrupted, catching on.  
  
"King's face was soon in all the papers, so the ministry had to hide him. Finally it became too risky for everyone, and the ministry decided to ship him to America or somewhere far away where they wouldn't have heard about a small murder. King was reluctant to leave his home country, but he soon realised the necessity of it and agreed. By this time, we were not on speaking terms, so I never found out exactly where he moved-until now."  
  
As soon as the last words left John's Steed's lips, Mrs. Peel commented, "Well, I can certainly see why he dislikes you so much."   
  
"This is capital, Mrs. Peel," Steed began, ignoring her last biting remark. "I can ask King to help us on our little mission."  
  
"You think he will after all that you've done to him?"  
  
"After I say that it's his duty to better mankind he'll be most eager to help." Steed seemed overconfident, but Emma wasn't one to say anything about it. "Now how would you like to attend a party tonight?"  
  
"I'd like nothing better, but I haven't been invited to one." Emma waited for Steed to explain himself, which he did without any prodding.  
  
"'Dear Mr. Steed, you are cordially invited to join us eight o'clock tonight at a grand gala, taking place in the East Wing downstairs.'" Steed read from an embossed letter. "'Formal attire is essential; dress accordingly.' What do you say to that, Mrs. Peel?"  
  
"How on earth did you get invited to a party so soon after arriving? Has Miss Crabbe been working her charm?"  
  
"Actually the hotel hosts a little get together every Tuesday for its newcomers. Everyone gets an invitation; why, here's yours." Steed handed his companion an identical letter and allowed her to curiously scan it. "I'll pick you up at seven, all right Mrs. Peel?"  
  
"I'll be ready and waiting, Steed." Smiling beguilingly, Emma Peel quitted the suite.  
  
Steed worked on the maps for a quarter of an hour, and then realised that it was time to prepare for the party. He arose from his position on a reclining chair, pondering over what to wear for dinner. He quickly decided on a navy blue suit, complete with a dark blue necktie. Now he moved on to the more difficult task of choosing the right bowler.   
  
Glancing suspiciously around, in case Mrs. Peel might be spying, Steed sneaked into his bedroom. He hefted a medium size suitcase onto his bed and removed its contents, three hatboxes. He opened the lids of the hatboxes, revealing two bowlers neatly and carefully stacked on top of one another in each box. In horror, Steed realised that the dim light was not sufficient enough to enable him to see the colours of the bowlers properly. At the moment he couldn't differentiate the black from the navy blue hat or the light gray from the dark gray one! With an affected sigh, he moved all his bowlers to the living area where he lined them up in a row on the coffee table.  
  
After a short debate over whether he should wear the black or the blue bowler, he finally chose the navy blue one. This little task finished, he gathered his belongings and rose.   
  
The sun was setting at that time, and Steed couldn't help but remember Mrs. Peel's comment about watching the sun set against the striking scenario of the car park. He gazed out the window at the many automobiles, and was about to retreat to his bedroom, when a certain person caught his eye.  
  
Right underneath Steed's window, a man was impatiently waiting for someone or something. He occasionally glanced about himself, hoping no one noticed him or his suspicious behavior. Finally another man wandered casually over to him. As soon as they both discovered that no one was around, they began talking.  
  
Steed nearly rolled his eyes as he realised that his window was closed, so that it was impossible to hear anything. He gingerly set his bowlers down on the coffee table again, crept up to the window, and deftly opened it a crack. When no sounds emerged from his prying the window, he opened the glass even wider. Steed peeked down at the pair, sighing with relief at not being discovered. Then he ducked low to avoid detection and listened intently.  
  
"I know the importance of our secrecy, and I can assure you that no one saw me come out here," the second man was telling his companion.  
  
"If anyone finds our meeting place, you are dead, you understand?" the first man replied. When there was no response, he continued, "Listen, we've got to start diving tomorrow night."  
  
"It's too dangerous at night; all those alligators."  
  
"It's too dangerous in the daytime, you idiot. The Crabbes are searching in the day, along with all those other unfortunate divers that have been killed. You want anyone to catch on that we're looking for the treasure?"  
  
"No, but I'm afraid of the dark. I get confused and discombobulated, and before you know it, I'm tripping over something or using the wrong tools, or-"  
  
"Stop making up excuses and heed me! Will you spread the word that we're starting tomorrow at midnight?"  
  
Steed had heard enough of the conversation. He started to rise from his squatted position, when suddenly the second gentleman looked his way. In a flash Steed was down on the floor, hoping they hadn't seen him. It appeared they hadn't, for the two fellows began to bid goodbye to each other. Just in case they happened to look up at the window again, Steed crawled away on the floor right into Emma's dress shoes!  
  
"Is that the new way for spies to get around?" she asked, utterly amused.  
  
Steed motioned for her to be quiet and then gestured to the window. Emma silently stole up to the window and peered out. She was just in time to see the first man walk away. The first man was Hardy Korall!  
  
Emma firmly shut the window and turned around to face her partner. She was relieved to note that Steed was no longer on the floor. "That man was Hardy Korall, Steed."  
  
"He was?" Steed asked incredulously as he brushed himself off. He smiled as Emma came over to help him. "He was talking about finding the treasure."  
  
Emma stopped her brushing to stare in confusion. "But he's a scientist trying to find what the cause of the whirlpools is, so what does he care about the treasure?"  
  
"Perhaps he's turned greedy and only cares about getting a hold of the treasure, or perhaps he never was a scientist and was just using that title as a cover up." As he spoke, Steed fetched the proper bowler from the pile on the coffee table and headed for his room. "Well, I must get ready for the dinner."   
  
"Really, Steed, bringing that many bowlers with you on vacation," Emma reprimanded her companion's strange idiosyncrasy.   
  
Steed tried to not flush as he placed the hat on top of his wavy dark brown hair. He opened the door for Mrs. Peel and ushered her out.   
  
He was about to leave himself when Emma reminded him, "Steed, you're not dressed!"  
With a grimace, Steed shut the door on Emma and hurried to get into his blue suit.  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
**Note: This is what really happened in the Avengers episode, "The Sellout." I added the part about King being a fugitive, though, because in the series King just disappears, and the next episode has Cathy Gale starring in it. 


	4. First Night

First Night  
  
In twenty minutes, Steed and Mrs. Peel were on their way to the fete. "How do I look?" Emma  
Peek asked self-consciously, even though she knew what would be the answer.  
  
Steed thought Mrs. Peel had never looked so exquisite in her white, silk, embroidered dress with  
the circular patterns. The miniskirt added to the appeal, and Steed had to fasten his eyes on the  
ceiling to keep from ogling. "You look lovely my dear, as usual, but what about myself?"  
  
"You look ravishing," Emma replied teasingly. The two exchanged a knowing glance before  
Emma entered the large ballroom that was known as the East Wing. Steed was to follow in  
several minutes, pretending that he didn't know Mrs. Peel. It was an old ploy of theirs, and they  
often used it, even though it hardly ever worked.  
  
Emma surveyed the cheerful mass of people that crowded the room. Heading over to the bar, she  
wondered who should be the first person she talked to about the treasure. Suddenly, she felt a  
strong yet polite tap on her shoulder. She curiously whirled around to discover none other than  
Dr. Martin King smiling tentatively at her. "Good evening, Doctor, and what brings you to this  
little party for the new arrivals?"  
  
"Many of the workers of the hotel come to these galas in order to properly welcome guests like  
you, Mrs. Peel," was the prompt reply.   
  
Emma Peel addressed the bartender, and was about to ask for a glass of champagne, when the  
doctor checked her. "Mrs. Peel, if you have been poisoned," he began quietly, "do you think it  
would be wise to fill your body with even more toxins?"  
  
Though deeply disappointed that she would have to give up her favourite beverage, Emma  
diligently canceled the order. She smiled provocatively as she remarked, "I'm flattered that you  
care so much, Dr. King."  
  
"I'm just trying to perform my duty as a physician to its fullest extent."  
  
"Don't you ever find it tedious to be so stuffy and professional all the time?"  
  
"I've seen what happens too often when you mix business with pleasure."  
  
"Why not try mixing pleasure with business?" Emma suggested half seriously, half in jest.  
  
"All right, how about joining me for a casual breakfast tomorrow morning at seven?" King asked,  
hoping she would say yes. "I don't start my practice until nine."  
  
"That must be nice."  
  
"So, do you accept my proposition?" Martin King began to look desperate at Mrs. Peel's apparent  
coolness.  
  
"I would love to join you for breakfast, Dr. King. Steed gave up eating his breakfast a while ago.  
He just fills up on champagne in the wee early hours of the morning, and he's set for the  
remainder of the day," she added as a joke.  
  
"I hope you are not being serious, Mrs. Peel."  
  
"But I am as serious as can be," Emma replied, feigning a look of innocence.   
  
As they were conversing, Steed entered the room. He likewise examined the cluster of people  
before heading for the bar to claim the luscious Emma Peel. Before he could reach his  
destination, a certain person caught his eye. The person was Hardy Korall, but what he was doing  
at the fete was an enigma to Steed. He decided that Emma should investigate the matter  
immediately, for, after all, she was acquainted with the man, so it wouldn't look conspicuous to  
have a leisurely chat with him.   
  
"Hello, my dear, how are you fairing?" John Steed inquired of Emma. He noticed the company  
she was in and added, "You must not be fairing well after hanging about with this dreary fellow."  
  
"It's nice to see you, too, John Steed," Martin replied icily.  
  
Emma found that the atmosphere between the two was one of pride and disdain. With a small  
gesture, she commented, "I think I'll just be running along and-"  
  
"Having a small discussion of R. Mebuckles' treasure with Professor Korall," Steed finished for  
her.  
  
"Where is he?" Mrs. Peel asked in an inaudible voice.  
  
"Right over there with the man I saw earlier with him in the car park," Steed whispered in  
response.  
  
Emma rushed over to Korall and pretended to bump into him. "Oh, I do beg your pardon, Sir."  
  
Professor Korall briefly scrutinized Mrs. Peel, remembered her from earlier that afternoon, and  
frowned. "Did you find what you were looking for this afternoon Mrs. Beale?"  
  
"The name is Peel, Mrs. Emma Peel and I found all the information I needed, thank you!"  
  
"Oh, so you found out what we scientists have: that its is just a natural occurrence."  
  
"Nothing has been proven yet. Besides, Captain Weed is quite certain that the curse of R.  
Mebuckles is the cause of all this trouble."  
  
The man from the parking lot and Hardy Korall's heads snapped to attention at the mention of  
Captain Weed's name. "Captain Weed-um, he's an old kook; he doesn't know what is fact and  
what is fairy tale anymore!" Korall declared nervously.  
  
Emma wondered why he stuttered so much over his dialogue. She remained silent, though, lest  
she upset him even more than she already had. She smoothly changed the subject as she asked,  
"And who is your companion, Professor Korall?"  
  
"My name is Waverly, ma'am," the professor's friend told her.   
  
"Mr. Waverly, Professor Korall, may I ask what you are doing at this little party? From the way  
you describe your work, I thought you had been on Paradisa Island for several weeks." Mrs. Peel  
waited a suitable response.  
  
"We only arrived last Wednesday, and since these gatherings are always on Tuesday, we were  
unable to attend last week's party," Korall explained as Waverly nodded in agreement. "So here  
we are, trying to enjoy the festivities as much as possible." As Hardy Korall finished the last  
remark, he glared emphatically at her.  
  
Mrs. Peel took the hint and meandered over to a raucous jazz band. The music wasn't her  
favourite, but since Steed was still engaged in a serious discussion with King, she remained  
where she was.  
  
Meanwhile Steed and King were quibbling over who was to blame for King's exodus from the  
United Kingdom those many years ago. "If you hadn't shot that man, I would have been free to  
live wherever I choose, instead of being a fugitive for a crime I didn't commit!" King interjected.  
  
"If you hadn't been so stupid and had gotten caught doing a simple job of spying, you wouldn't  
have been kidnapped, and I consequently wouldn't have had to shoot Mark Harvey!" Steed  
protested angrily.  
  
"You ruined my life, Steed," King proclaimed, anguish notable in his voice. "You may think it's  
wonderful to live in this tropical Paradise, but all I see is endless days of being away from the  
people I love most."  
  
"You had someone special back home?" Steed asked curiously.  
  
King's despondent countenance turned to one of annoyance as he snapped, "Yes, my mother."  
  
Steed was about to laugh, but stopped himself in time. "Well, my mother happens to be deceased,  
so I can't relate."  
  
"Yes, but you can still visit your brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces." King paused  
briefly and added, "You even have a wife to look after you! I don't have a wife and probably  
never will. I can't find pleasure with these natives girls, and the women from England are usually  
here with their husbands." He noticed that Steed was eying him strangely.  
  
"The strain of your job is showing through, King. I never had a wife, and I probably never will  
either."  
  
"Don't play more games with me, Steed. When I was leaving I was informed that you and a  
certain lady of reputable birth were going to be married shortly. At the time I was so embittered I  
hoped that she would give you nothing but ceaseless turmoil, but now I'm just incredibly jealous  
of you."  
  
Steed tried not to roll his eyes and yell in an ungentlemanly fashion as he answered, "I DO NOT  
HAVE A WIFE! You must have been misinformed-Mrs. Peel will vouch for me!" Steed searched  
the somewhat dissipated crowds for the previously mentioned lady. When he couldn't find her, he  
merely said, "Well, at any rate, there is no Mrs. John Steed at present."  
  
It was King's turn to eye his companion warily. "If you say so Steed, but I could've sworn-"  
  
Steed interrupted King with the apology, "Look, I'm sorry you had to leave England. I had no  
intention of that happening at the time I rashly shot Harvey."  
  
"So you admit that you were being rash!" King almost smiled before he continued, "I suppose  
that's enough for me to forgive you."  
  
"You know, since it's been so many years since the crime was committed, you may be able to  
return to England without being noticed. I'll see what I can do for you, if you like." Steed glanced  
over his shoulder and perceived Mrs. Peel advancing toward them.  
  
"Has everything been resolved?" she asked as soon as she was in earshot.  
  
"Oh, I think so," Steed replied quite seriously. He lightened the mood by suggesting they each get  
something to drink.   
  
"The doctor has told me that I shouldn't drink champagne in case I've been poisoned," Emma told  
him.  
  
"Do you think you'll survive?" Steed asked, concern in his voice.  
  
"I'll manage," Emma sighed.  
  
Taking Emma aside, Steed inquired, "So what did Professor Korall have to say?"  
  
"He and his companion Waverly have only been here a little less than week, thus they were  
invited to the party."  
  
"That means that unless Korall and Waverly are lying, they have not been responsible for the  
murders."  
  
"How can you say that?"  
  
"Because the first murder took place three weeks ago."  
  
"He appeared to be in earnest when I spoke to him, a little unpleasant, but earnest." Emma Peel  
reflected on the meeting and recalled an important clue. "Hardy Korall was very nervous when I  
mentioned Captain Weed. What do you suppose it means?"  
  
"Perhaps he is just remembering the uncivil manners Captain Weed displayed when they were  
prodding information out of him about the strange phenomenon. Or perhaps it's something more  
sinister than that. We'll just have to continue our investigations, eh Mrs. Peel?" Steed smiled  
affably at her and the two marched proudly onto the dance floor.   
  
The party continued long into the night, but Steed and Mrs. Peel, finally exhausted, had to leave.  
Dr. King gave Mrs. Peel a slip of paper with information on how to get to a little café in the  
resort where he hoped they would have their breakfast the next day. Steed witnessed the whole  
procedure, but he didn't ask what was on the paper. He assumed it was a prescription for some  
medicine.  
  
John Steed escorted Emma Peel back to her suite, making plans for tomorrow morning. "We'll  
have breakfast at eight, and then we'll head to the diving shop, where we will rent some gear.  
Then we will go diving for some treasure." He rubbed his hands together in sheer delight at the  
prospect.  
  
Emma grinned as she eyed the leaf of paper in her hand. With her free hand, she inserted her key  
into the lock and turned to face Steed. "What if I don't want to have breakfast with you?" she  
asked cockily. The suggestion was too inconceivable for Steed, but he managed to keep silent. "I  
may have other plans," Emma continued as she entered the room.  
  
"What did King write on that paper?" Steed demanded, jealousy evident in his voice.  
  
Mrs. Peel placed the piece of paper facedown on a table where the room's phone was perched.  
The words were now concealed from Steed's prying eyes. "Don't you dare flip that paper over!"  
she warned Steed.  
  
"You have my word as a gentlemen. Could you please get me some brandy, dear, before I leave?"  
Steed asked innocently.   
  
Emma gazed at him skeptically, but finally wandered over to the bar.   
  
While Mrs. Peel was busily pouring some of the appointed liquor for him, Steed picked up a  
pencil that was next to the phone and began scribbling on the back of the paper. Soon the  
indentation of the words came through on the back. Of course, they were backwards, but Steed  
was able to sufficiently read it. This way he found out what was on the paper without breaking  
his promise to his lady friend. "So King is taking you to a breakfast at restaurant that is located  
between the tennis courts and the sauna?" he asked.  
  
"I told you not to turn that paper over and read it." Emma flounced over to the table and  
crumpled the piece of paper into a tiny ball.   
  
"I didn't flip it over. I scribbled on the back until the letters showed through."  
  
Over Steed's amused chuckles, she remarked peevishly, "You're incorrigible."  
  
"You wouldn't have it any other way," Steed declared wryly. With a tip of his bowler, he exited  
the room. He knew that Mrs. Peel would not stay angry with him for long.  
  
Steed entered his room, flipped on the lights, and was bombarded by two very familiar people.  
  
"Steed, you're in grave danger!" Mrs. Catherine Gale announced as she shoved Steed into a chair.  
  
"When am I not in danger?" Steed grinned flippantly, but when he saw Cathy's glare, he frowned.  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"Mother is trying to harm you and Mrs. Peel," another voice spoke up. Smyth stepped into view  
before continuing, "He's sending Mitchell to take Emma back with him, by force if necessary."   
  
"This is all poppycock, Mrs. Gale and Smyth. Are you sure you weren't drinking something you  
oughtn't on the plane trip over here?"  
  
"You have a lot of nerve to tell me that, John Steed!" Smyth bellowed angrily.  
  
Steed was surprised to see the usual levelheaded Richard Smyth barking at him. Cathy calmly  
patted her love on the arm and remarked, "I think you need to get some rest, Richard darling."  
She turned to address Steed, and with utter annoyance noticeable in her voice, said, "We are  
leaving now, but I warn you, if any harm comes to Emma, it will be your fault."  
  
Steed checked them with the words, "Don't forget to come around tomorrow morning at eight."  
Noticing their penetrating glares, he explained, "I'll need your assistance with this whole case I'm  
working on, so if what you're saying is true, you can protect Emma and help me at the same  
time."  
  
Smyth and Cathy exchanged inquisitive glances with each other before agreeing to Steed's plans.  
The two then left as silently as they had entered.   
  
Steed smiled satisfactorily and hurried to get ready for bed. Staying up until one was not his  
favourite activity, and sleep deprivation was taking its toll on him.   
  
Meanwhile, on the other side of the ocean, a young woman was hastily packing. Tara King was  
busy cramming every article of clothing that could possibly fit into her suitcase. She sighed in  
discontentment at the three outfits she had not managed to fit into her too small of a suitcase. She  
lugged the stuffed piece of luggage into her living room and then plopped into a chair.  
  
She was going to Paradisa Island that very morning. In fact, in two hours she would be leaving  
her flat and heading to the airport to catch the flight. She had to help Steed, even if it meant going  
against her boss.   
  
With another sigh, she hefted her weary body out of its chair and into her kitchen. She was not  
accustomed to getting up dawn, especially not to pack! Packing was an art, she had discovered,  
and she was not gifted at it. She rummaged through her pots and pans, looking for the right one  
to make fried eggs with. She was too intent on thinking about John Steed's handsome face.  
  
"Hold on, Steed," she murmured tiredly as she lifted an omelette pan over her head like a banner,  
"help is on the way!" 


	5. Third Day

Third Day  
  
Mrs. Emma Peel laughed goodheartedly at Dr. Martin King's comical story, fully enjoying her breakfast with him. Not many people could succeed in making her laugh, so she was very pleased with the doctor. "You're very kind in inviting one of your patients to breakfast."  
  
"I don't consider people I visit before business hours my patients." Martin wiped his mouth with his linen napkin.  
  
"That's not very considerate of you." Emma pretended to be insulted by his comment, but really she was bubbling with delight. This morning, nothing could dampen her high spirits-except one little matter. "Do you have the results from my tests yet, Doctor?"  
  
"I make it a habit not to speak business with my patients before-"  
  
"Before work hours? I'm beginning to notice a pattern." Mrs. Peel heaped another forkful of pancakes into her luscious shaped mouth.  
  
Sighing with contentment, King leaned back in his chair. "I'm enjoying your company immensely, Mrs. Peel. I don't think anything could ruin this delightful meal except for that pompous man John Steed."  
  
"Did you call for me, Sir?" John Steed stood before the couple's table, an impish grin playing on his lips.  
  
Emma stifled a laugh at Steed's quirky behavior and King's peeved reaction. "Steed, I'll have you for the remainder of the day; right now this is Dr. King's time with me."  
  
"I wish you had kept our breakfast engagement a secret." Martin raised his bushy eyebrows crossly as he glared at Steed.  
  
"Mrs. Peel's secrets are my secrets," Steed countered.  
  
"I don't know if I like that idea," Emma smiled.  
  
Steed returned the smile before he said, "I just wanted to tell you that Smyth and Mrs. Gale arrived last night, warning me of impending danger or something of the like."  
  
"If it's coming from Mrs. Gale, I'd believe it. Remember the time . . ." Emma's voice trailed off as she realised she couldn't recollect what time she was thinking of. It had something to do with her and Steed and Mr. Peel. What was that about again? Mrs. Peel wondered to herself.  
  
Nobody noticed Mrs. Peel's puzzled manner, for Martin King had asked, "Who's Mrs. Gale?"  
  
Steed sat down in an empty chair and leaned on his elbow. "Mrs. Catherine Gale is an anthropologist who married a farmer, moved to Africa, and learned how to hunt and fend for herself. Her husband died, and she came back to England, where she met up with me. I asked for her assistance on numerous cases before she grew tired of me and returned to her old job. Now does that clarify everything?"   
  
"I suppose Smyth is in the same line of work as you, am I correct?" King eyed Steed wearily until he nodded his head in response.  
  
"Anyway," Steed continued, "I've asked for their help in this case, so don't be surprised when you see them. I'll be running along then, if you don't mind."  
  
"No, not at all," King snapped in annoyance.  
  
"You and Mrs. Gale are birds of a feather." Steed casually trotted off, leaving a very amused Emma and frustrated Martin behind him.  
  
Several minutes later, Steed was patiently waiting for Ms. Larraine Crabbe to finish his measurements for his diving gear. "I'll have the perfect suit for you in several minutes," she assured him as she disappeared into the storage room.  
  
At that moment, Cathy and Smyth entered the shop. Cathy was attired in one of her gray business dresses, and Smyth was dressed in a dark suit. Steed surveyed their apparel and groaned. "No, no, no, you can't possibly expect to go boating in those clothes!"  
  
"Look, Steed, you have never once in our whole relationship told me what I should do on a case or what was going on. How was I supposed to know that you wanted me to go boating?" Cathy tried to remain calm, but it was difficult.  
  
"We'll just have to go change before we join Steed on the boat." Smyth seemed to find nothing wrong with Steed's roundabout way of doing things.   
  
"You see, I'm going to be diving for the treasure while also looking for the cause of some terrible deaths. You are aware of the case I'm working on, aren't you?" Before either of them could answer, Steed replied, "Oh, I'm glad to hear that.  
  
"You'll be piloting the motor boats while Mrs. Peel and I are swimming in the deep blue sea."   
  
"You're taking it for granted that I know how to steer a boat," Cathy reminded John Steed.  
  
"Well, you do drive a boat, so what's the trouble?" Smyth asked.  
  
"You go rent two motorboats, and I'll see you in a quarter of an hour." Steed waited expectantly for an answer. Cathy and Smyth nodded and quickly exited the shop. Steed smiled gregariously as Miss Crabbe reentered the storefront.  
  
"Well, when can I get started on my diving expedition?" he asked eagerly.  
  
Larraine smiled amicably at his boyish impatience. "Everything is at your disposal, the equipment, the flippers, etcetera. We'll provide everything, except your diving partner. You must never swim alone!"  
  
"Well, perhaps I could offer myself as a diving partner." Emma Peel entered the store, dressed for the sea in a bright blue sundress with skinny straps. A white belt was fastened around her slender waist, and a floppy straw hat sat upon her auburn trusses, a gauzy strap tied securely around her chin. "I'm Mrs. Emma Peel, diver extraordinaire."  
  
Larraine gazed enviously at Emma's seemingly flawless figure, trying to find the right words. "If Mr. Steed thinks it all right, then you two may be diving partners."   
  
I'd be more than delighted, my dear! What did you say your name was again?" Steed inquired, carrying out the ruse.   
  
Larraine automatically pulled out the measuring tape, and was about to begin the procedure once more when she noticed Mr. Steed's eyes resting on the sexy Emma. "Do you mind turning around?" Larraine demanded.   
  
Steed flushed crimson as he reeled around to gaze at a scuba mask.   
  
Thirty minutes later, Emma and Steed were dressed in their diving gear. They proceeded to head out to the pier where Cathy and Smyth would be waiting for them with the boats.   
  
Larraine jealously watched them walk down the beach, her eyes never leaving Emma. She sniffed disdainfully as she added to herself, "There's one consolation in my figure: at least I'm fully round on top."  
  
******************  
  
Cathy smiled briefly when she spotted Steed and Peel approaching the dock. "They're here, Richard; let's get ready to go." She and Smyth each boarded one of the boats, medical and food provisions in hand. Cathy self-consciously smoothed her black and white bathing suit and then leaned back in the boat.  
  
"Hello, my dear, how are you?" Steed hopped into her vessel.   
  
"Oh no, you are not riding with me!" Cathy gazed desperately at Smyth and Emma, but they were busily preparing to sail. "All right, but had better not distract me, or I won't be responsible if we crash."  
  
"Aye, aye, captain." Steed saluted her before reclining in the bench that aligned the exterior wall of the boat.   
  
The two boats started off for their destination. As they cruised along, Cathy asked Steed, "Where did you learn to dive?"  
  
"I took a course in school."  
  
"When did they start giving lessons to scuba dive in school? Cathy asked disbelievingly.  
  
"I'm surprised, Mrs. Gale, at your dense thinking! I'm talking about spy school!"   
  
Cathy bit her tongue, keeping back the rude comments which had popped into her head and was silent the remainder of the trip.   
  
In the other boat Smyth was asking Mrs. Peel the exact same question as Cathy had.   
  
Emma's answer, however, was entirely different from Steed's. "The Knights always try everything at least once. However, when my Father and I went scuba diving many years ago, I did it not once, but four times! Several years ago I took the sport up again as a sort of hobby, and now I'm quite the expert."  
  
"You're an amazing woman Mrs. Steed," Smyth remarked admiringly, not realizing his blunder.  
  
"Thank you for the compliment, but my name is Mrs. Peel, not Mrs. Steed." Emma was not concerned about his mistake. After all, Smyth worked with Steed so often that the name was probably imprinted in his brain.  
  
Just the same, Smyth uncharacteristically blushed red. "Keep that up, and you might as well tell her the whole truth," he muttered to himself. He cleared his throat and continued steering the boat in complete silence.  
  
Emma liked the quiet that had settled over the vessel. All she heard was the insistent puttering of the motor and the lapping of the waves against the side of the boat. She leaned back in her seat, ready to enjoy herself.  
  
Soon the two boats reached the approximate location of where the deaths had occurred. Pulling on his flippers, Steed said, "There's a rope ladder over on the starboard side of this vessel. Be a dear, Mrs. Gale, and toss it down over the side so I can get into the water?"  
  
Exasperated, Cathy Gale retrieved the heavy ladder from the corner.   
  
"Now toss it over the side of the boat," Steed commanded in a tone that made Cathy feel like a little child.  
  
"Why don't I just toss YOU over the side of the boat?" she snapped in reply.  
  
Steed laughed nervously, a sign that he was embarrassed by her remark. He took the ladder from her outstretched arms and hung it on the outside of the boat himself. As he climbed down the ladder, Cathy came over to the railing to peer down at him. Steed smiled as he declared, "You know, you look lovely in that bathing suit, just stunning!"  
  
Mrs. Gale scowled at Steed's feeble attempt to get out of trouble and was about to push him off the ladder, when he checked her.  
  
"I haven't got my mask on yet." Steed pulled on the scuba mask, turned on the oxygen tank, and dived into the water. He swam over to the other boat, where Mrs. Peel and Mr. Smyth were patiently waiting for him on deck.  
  
"Where do you want to search for treasure first?" Emma inquired as she placed her mask carefully over her lovely face.  
  
Since he already had his mask on, Steed merely pointed in a general direction. He watched as Emma climbed onto the railing and did a graceful swan dive into the water.  
  
The two swam below the surface, examining their surroundings with the greatest interest. They saw the huge bow of a wooden ship ahead of them, and without further investigation they knew whose ship it was: Captain R. Mebuckles. The same thought crept into each of their minds, "Supposing the treasure was on the ship?" It was the only logical place for it to be! The two spies approached the vessel, their excitement accelerating with each stroke of the water. Mr. Steed and Mrs. Peel didn't see the cave off to the side, nor did they see the light that was growing brighter every second.   
  
"I wonder what this whole case is about?" Cathy called to Smyth from her boat.   
  
"We'll know when Mr. and Mrs. Steed return," Smyth yelled back.   
  
Meanwhile, Emma had reached the sunken ship when she finally saw the light behind them. Her brown eyes must have grown wide with horror, for Steed whirled around in a panic.   
  
He likewise spotted the intense light, and in a flash, he had grabbed Mrs. Peel's arm and was struggling to the surface. His effort to save their lives was futile, for at that moment, a strong force began pulling them back down to the sea floor.   
  
On the surface, Cathy spotted the eerie light and felt the boat rocking. "What's going on?" she demanded uneasily to no one in particular. (It would have been helpful if Steed had told her what the whole case was about and described the strange phenomenon to her before she had gone out on the water.) "Richard, what should we do?"  
  
"Try to find Emma and Steed in the water," Smyth barked to his beloved.  
  
Cathy peered into the now turbulent waters, trying to find any sign of the two divers. Finally she spotted them, struggling to get to the surface. "I've found them, but there's no way of reaching them, even with this ladder!" she shouted.  
  
"Then the only thing to do is to get ourselves to safety." Smyth's usually collected voice was becoming desperate.  
  
"We can't leave them!" Mrs. Gale protested.  
  
"They have enough oxygen to last them an hour. Maybe they can find a safe spot to wait out this-this storm." Smyth had no idea what to call the devastating phenomenon.  
  
"I'm not leaving Emma and I'm especially not leaving Steed, not after all he's done for me!" Cathy's noble gesture tugged at Richard's heart, but he couldn't be foolish enough to stay with her. However, he couldn't leave Cathy either.   
  
After much debate, he decided to go to the shore for help. He told Cathy of his plans before he sped off in his boat. The last thing Richard saw before everything disappeared from view was his love, trying to steer her boat in the tumultuous sea.  
  
Cathy gave up trying to steer the vessel and dropped the anchor. She then clung to the railing for dear life, hoping that the turbulence would soon pass.  
  
Meanwhile, John Steed and Emma Peel were losing the battle with the Caribbean. They would swim to the surface, only to be dragged back down to the sandy floor. Emma realised that she was rapidly losing her strength and would not last much longer if they didn't reach safety. She tried to motion to Steed to warn him of her impending doom, but she was too weak.  
  
With a final burst of energy, Emma swam to the surface. She braced her body, expecting to be pulled under, but nothing happened. The terrible blinding lights and strong current had completely stopped. She and Steed and outlived it all! With a little triumphant smirk, she dived back into the water. She had no intention of looking for the treasure now, but she had to find Steed.  
  
However, Steed was nowhere to be seen. The fact was that Steed had swum to the boat and was now on board, waiting for Emma.   
  
"You don't think she went back underwater?" Mrs. Gale asked after Mrs. Peel had not shown herself.  
  
Steed glared and Catherine Gale. "Don't be absurd! She knows better than to stay around danger, which is more than I can say for you!"  
  
In one moment, Cathy forgot all about her loyalty to Steed. "You're the one not thinking clearly! If she thought you were still underwater, unconscious, maybe dying, don't you think she might search the area before she got to safety?"  
  
Steed had to agree that Mrs. Gale was right, as usual. Without saying a word, he put his mask back on, turned on the oxygen once more, and dove back into the waters. In a short while had reached the sunken ship. He quickly spotted the searching Emma and grabbed her by the arm.  
  
Mistaking Steed for the enemy, Emma chopped him with a powerful karate stroke. Fortunately, the water prevented any damage from being done. She realised her mistake and willingly went with Steed.   
  
Soon the two were on the surface again right next to Mrs. Gale's boat. They both flipped up their masks with one arm, keeping afloat by moving their other arm. "Pull her in, Mrs. Gale!" Steed shouted. Cathy obligingly lowered the ladder for Emma.   
  
Emma tiredly grabbed hold of the rope rungs. She began climbing the ladder, when suddenly she felt the boat moving slowly to the left. "I thought you anchored this thing, Mrs. Gale!" she cried as she plummeted back into the water.  
  
"I did awhile ago, Mrs. Peel!" Cathy stared confusedly at the large anchor dragging across the sea's floor. Suddenly, the boat began moving faster to the left, and then faster and faster! "What kind of strong force can move a one ton anchor?" Cathy wondered to herself.  
  
Steed looked about himself until he spotted the now all too familiar glow of the light in the water. Before he could stop himself he was moving to the left like the boat and going farther under water with each move. "It's a whirlpool!" he yelped. "Quickly, Emma, into the boat!"  
  
Not minding that Steed had used her Christian name, Emma grabbed for the ladder once more. Cathy lowered the ladder more, and Emma was finally able to climb aboard.  
  
By this time the current was so strong that Steed was finding it difficult to keep afloat. Once more he pulled on his mask and flipped on his oxygen tank. These movements caused Steed to lose his ability to stay afloat, and he was pulled underwater.   
  
"Steed!" Cathy and Emma shouted in alarm.  
  
Emma grabbed Cathy's arm urgently. "We have to save him."  
  
Cathy nodded her head, though she didn't know how they could save him. She brought up the anchor and steered the boat ten yards away from the whirlpool, where the two could devise a plan in safety.  
  
Meanwhile, Steed was being spun madly around by the great force of the underwater tornado. Objects were flying by him so quickly, making him dizzier by the second. He tried to push grave thoughts of death aside, but at the moment, his future looked so bleak, death plagued his mind.  
  
Suddenly, the lovely face of Emma Peel was before him, making him stronger. In an instant he snapped out of his dismal state. He began to fight against the powerful whirlpool, inching his way to the top while the current was forever pulling him down to the floor. Darkness enshrouded him and he couldn't see anything in front of him; all he knew was he had to go up. Steed was muscular, though, and soon he could see the sun shining above him. In several more strokes he could see the motorboat. After a few more laps his head broke above the surface.  
  
In the boat, Emma spotted Steed's head and cried, "There he is; move your boat towards him."  
  
Cathy tried to maneuver the small vessel as close to the whirlpool as she could without being sucked in. She was no farther than three yards away from the whirlpool when she began to feel the current dragging the boat to its doom. "Hurry, Emma, before we're all sucked into the whirlpool!"  
  
"I'm still thinking of a plan." Emma swirled around, swiping a piece of her wet hair off her face in agony. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a life preserver. With a little cry of relief, she grabbed the white ring and tossed it into the water near Steed's head.  
  
Steed gratefully lunged for the buoy, but as his hands were about to touch it, the current pulled him under again. Petrified, Steed grappled to get to the surface once more. Arms thrashing wildly about him, he emerged from the water. His hands lashed the life preserver, and he quickly grabbed on to the lifesaver. Emma and Cathy both used their strength to pull the exhausted Steed into the boat.   
  
Once safely in the boat, Steed collapsed on the hard floor. Emma Peel lovingly removed his mask from his careworn face and switched off the air. They both sat there silently, each breathing heavily. John gazed into Emma's face, a total look of relief mingled with adoration in his eyes. Emma returned the look, and the two stared at each other until the boat reached port.  
  
If Mrs. Gale had noticed their steadfast gaze, she made no comment about it. She merely steered the boat, keeping her eyes open for Smyth and the group of rescuers he had promised to bring with him. But she didn't see any sign of Smyth as she cruised back to the dock.   
  
"Well," Mrs. Gale began when the three weary sailors were on shore, "What good was that whole trip? We nearly drowned ourselves for no avail. You realise that we are worse off than when we started!"  
  
"Please, Mrs. Gale, this is hardly the time to scold Steed. We've each made our share of mistakes in life." Mrs. Peel laid a supportive hand on Steed's limp arm.  
  
Mrs. Gale softened considerably at her dialogue. "I apologize for being so abrupt a minute ago. I'm just all nerves at the moment." She scanned the beach for her beloved Richard and finally found him among the many spectators. "Richard, we're over here!" she called as she waved her hands back and forth.  
  
Richard bounded over to the wet and weary trio. "I'm sorry I didn't return with help, but my boat was harpooned by some angry fishermen!"  
  
"Why would fishermen carry harpoon guns in their possessions?" Cathy wondered.  
  
Smyth was about to reply when he noted Steed's haggard appearance. "Great Scot, Steed, you've gotten yourself in quite a jam, again!"  
  
"I'll be my usual sturdy self after I've rested awhile." Steed tried to stand straight and tall, but he didn't have the energy.  
  
"Mrs. Peel!" bellowed an urgent voice. Captain Weed shoved his way through the many spectators who had gathered to watch the whirlpool. "I thought I saw ye among this crowd." He surveyed her soggy diving gear and exclaimed, "Don't tell me, ye was the one caught in the grasp of the curse this time! I thought ye was into sailboatin, not scuba divin."  
  
"I was going out with a friend, Mr. John Steed," Emma replied quickly.  
  
"I see ye all are in no condition to do anything but sit. Come up to me lighthouse and rest a spell before ye go back to the hotel." Captain Weed nodded to the foursome in front of him and then motioned to his dilapidated house. Nobody was in the mood to protest, so they all followed the eccentric sailor.  
  
Thirty minutes later, Mrs. Peel, Mrs. Gale, Mr. Smyth, and Mr. Steed were sitting in various chairs and on Captain Weed's sofa, eagerly sipping warm tea. Smyth had obtained their clothes, so the four were no longer in their wetsuits. Everyone was warming up, except Steed, who shook considerably every time he stopped drinking his tea. He was also a nervous wreck from his deathly experience, which added to his shivering. Emma wasn't any better, really, for she was weak and nauseous, something she was growing accustomed to.  
  
"There now, when ye have settled down a bit more, I'll bring out me favourite crab cake sandwich." Captain Weed smiled congenially at the exhausted crew.  
  
Smyth, being a typical Englishman with finicky taste, whispered to Cathy, "Will I like this crab cake thing?"  
  
Cathy silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Thank you for being so kind to us, Captain Weed."  
  
"It's nothing, me dear," the sailor answered. "Do any of ye need more tea?"  
  
Emma was famished, so the prospect of more tea was distasteful. She really needed food, not more to drink. "Please, could we have our sandwiches now?"  
  
The captain acquiesced and strolled into the kitchen. Catherine took this opportune time to speak spy business.  
  
"About those fishermen, why do you think they harpooned your boat, Richard?"  
  
"Perhaps they're not fishermen, but are in league with whoever or whatever is causing all these deaths," Emma suggested.  
  
"A very plausible explanation," Smyth responded in his most enthusiastic voice.  
  
"Ah, fishing is a great sport," Steed declared sleepily. It was evident that he did not totally comprehend the conversation.   
  
Captain Weed returned then, and they were forced to stop the discussion. "Here ye are, me dears; now eat heartily." He presented them each with a crab cake sandwich and banana and pineapple chunks on the side.  
  
"It looks very tropical," Steed commented unnecessarily.  
  
"Cathy, I have a keen aversion to pineapple," Richard informed everyone.  
  
Mrs. Peel realised that the captain looked ready to belt his ungrateful guest. Not wanting any more violence, she sprang to her feet and said, "My what a lovely collection of books you have!" She advanced to a rickety bookshelf to peer at its contents. "The Extraordinary Submarine, that sounds like a fascinating book."  
  
"Aye, it is, though I wouldn't ever pilot one of those beastly contraptions. They're too dangerous, those submarines, toting torpedoes, wreaking havoc in the usual peaceful sea."  
  
At the words, "wreaking havoc," three heads became very alert, Cathy's, Emma's, and Richard's. Steed was staring intently at his plate as if he expected his crab to get up and walk.  
  
"Could a submarine cause a whirlpool?" Mrs. Gale asked, feigning a nonchalant air.  
  
Captain Weed stared at her in surprise. "They most certainly cannot!"  
  
There seemed little else to discuss about submarines, so Smyth decided to pursue another subject. "Are there many fishermen around here, Captain Weed?"  
  
"No, not on this island; we earn our money by tourism." Captain Weed watched in interest as Steed stood up and wandered over to the bookshelf. He seemed to be searching for a specific book and not having very good success in finding it. Abruptly, he gave an exultant cry and hurried back to his seat on the couch. Emma followed him, seating herself next to him.  
  
"I was just wondering because I was attacked by two men in a boat. They had fishing nets and also several spare harpoon guns with them." Smyth waited for the sailor's response.  
  
"What did ye do to incur their wrath?"  
  
"I decided to get help for Mrs. Peel and Mr. Steed."  
  
"Well, I be suspecting that your fisherman are those no good scallywag scientists!" Captain Weed nodded his head emphatically, causing his scraggly, white hair to bounce. "By the way, what were ye looking for on that bookshelf, Mr. Steed?"  
  
Everyone waited for a response, but none came. In a few seconds, Steed had fallen asleep.  
  
To Be Continued! 


	6. Second Afternoon

Second Afternoon  
  
Tara King marched resolutely up to the front desk of the tropical resort on Paradisa Island. "I would like a room, if it isn't inconvenient."  
  
The receptionist smiled politely before replying, 'I'll see if we have any available." She glanced through her registration and said, "There are no suites available, but we have several rooms."  
  
"It doesn't really matter," Tara quickly answered, lest the several remaining rooms might vanish in several seconds if she didn't hurry. While the desk clerk was booking Tara's room, Miss king asked, "Would you mind looking up the room number of a friend of mine? The name is-"  
  
"Why if it isn't our good friend Tara!" exclaimed a voice. Catherine Gale emerged with Richard Smyth from a throng of busy vacationers. "We thought you were in England, working your head off."  
  
"The same with Mother and Mitchell." Tara informed them. She grabbed the key from the outstretched arm of the receptionist and motioned to a nearby porter. The porter willingly carried her luggage to her hotel room, while Cathy and Smyth trailed behind, retelling the events of the day.  
  
Once she had heard the terrifying accounts, Tara couldn't help exclaiming, "My Poor Steed, being caught in that deadly current! We must make sure no more harm comes to him." Tara entered her room, sighing dismally over "her" Steed.   
  
"We'll watch over Steed and Emma if you can watch out for Mitchell," Smyth commanded authoritatively. "He should be arriving shortly if my calculations serve me correctly.  
  
Tara reluctantly agreed and the three went their separate ways, making a rendezvous for eight o'clock at resort's nightclub.   
  
Even though Cathy had told her that Steed was at Captain Weed's, Tara decided to examine his room. She wanted to be at Steed's room in case Mitchell arrived. He was certain to head to Steed's suite first, and when he did, Tara could dispose of him. She hurriedly made her way to the suite floor of the resort. Soon she was outside Steed's room, surveying the area to make sure no one was watching. Firmly convinced that there were no spies around other than herself, Tara quietly slipped inside.  
  
After long hour, Mitchell still hadn't arrived. Tara was about to leave, when she heard the door open. Cautiously, she hid behind a large bedroom curtain. She couldn't see anything, but she could hear tentative footsteps on the living room floor. They advanced nearer to her, until finally she could see the owner of the footsteps. It was whom she had expected: Agent Mitchell.   
  
He examined the room carelessly until his eyes rested on the bedroom curtains. "I see your feet, whoever you are, so you might as well come out of there." Tara meekly stepped out, purse with the brick on hand.   
  
Mitchell's eyes gawked at her confusedly until a glimmer of comprehension shone in them. "You're here to protect Steed and the Mrs., aren't you? I'm here to separate the lovebirds permanently. It puts us at a rather awkward situation, doesn't it?" With this last inquiry, he lunged for her.   
  
Tara swung her purse at him with every ounce of strength. It must have been quite a smack, for Mitchell toppled backwards unto the floor. Tara wasted no time, but fled from the bedroom. She had almost reached the exit when Mitchell sped out of the bedroom and blocked her path. In desperation, Tara seized the nearest object, the telephone.  
  
Mitchell stared at her for a moment before dissolving into a sardonic chuckle. As he grabbed for the telephone, Tara brought the object down on his head. As a result, the telephone's chord was ripped from the electric socket.   
  
Enraged at the fact that an inexperienced spy was beating him, Mitchell grabbed Tara's slender neck and began choking her violently. The two struggled for a while before Tara collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. Mitchell merely smirked evilly as he searched the suite for a rope or something that could be used for similar purposes. When no ropes could be found, he ripped down the chord from the curtains that enabled them to open and shut. He then proceeded to bind and gag his helpless victim.   
  
Just as he was tying his handkerchief around Miss King's mouth, Tara revived. She stared wide-eyed at him and tried to murmur some sort of protest. "You'll have to speak louder than that love!" Mitchell taunted her. After several seconds of Tara's continuous gurgling, he untied the handkerchief.   
  
Tara gasped several times before she managed to spurt out, "If you'll untie me, I'll tell you where Steed is."  
  
Mitchell meditated over the proposition for several seconds, and then he answered, "All right, where is Steed?"  
  
"Untie me first, and I'll tell you."  
  
Mitchell realized right away what Tara was doing. She was hoping he'd untie her, so she could knock him out and go warn Steed. And he wasn't about to let that happen! "No, tell me where Steed is, and then I'll let you go." When Tara made no response, he began fastening the handkerchief securely around her mouth.  
  
Tara was at a dilemma, for she knew that if she told Mitchell about Steed's location before he untied her, he could leave her bound and gag and find Steed. However, she could lie about Steed's whereabouts, which she did accordingly. "When last scene, Steed was by the pool, and that was about an hour ago."  
  
"So you haven't seen him for an hour, how convenient," Mitchell replied sarcastically.   
  
"You wanted the truth, didn't you?" Tara King countered.   
  
Mr. Mitchell merely gagged Tara once more and fled to the door. "Sorry to leave you like this, Tara love, but you were in my way. You just sit there and think lovely thoughts." Mitchell grabbed the "Do not disturb," sign and hung it on the door before departing.  
  
The only thought that entered Tara's head as she sat on the hard floor was, "You are a scoundrel, Mitchell, you nasty thing you!"  
  
****************  
  
Steed slept for several hours, and by the time he awoke, it was past six o'clock at night. Cathy and Richard had returned to the hotel, but Emma had staid by his side, in a manner of speaking.  
  
"Steed, I discovered something very interesting while you were asleep," Mrs. Peel informed him as he groggily blinked numerous times. "Captain Weed is talking to Hardy Korall at this very minute, and he doesn't sound the least bit upset."  
  
"Every man has his own price. Hardy Korall probably paid him several hundred pounds to tell him everything he needs to know, so now they are the closest companions," Steed promptly replied. "Well, shall we be going?" Steed offered his arm to Emma, who gladly accepted it.  
  
Soon the two were walking down the beach toward the resort. "I suppose we should have listened into Captain Weed's conversation," Emma mused.  
  
"Yes, it was very foolish of us." Steed stopped in his tracks and looked ready to return to the lighthouse.  
  
"It would be very suspicious if we returned now," Mrs. Peel reminded him. She swung her straw hat with her free arm. "I don't think he's a criminal any more than I think Mrs. Gale is my worst enemy."  
  
"Do you want to know what I was looking for on Captain Weed's bookshelf?" Steed waited for Mrs. Peel's nod before continuing, "I was looking for other books about submarines, and I found seven."  
  
"Seven books just about submarines? What could he possibly want to know about them?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but I'm determined to find out."  
  
The two traversed the rest of the beach in a thoughtful silence. They had just reached the resort's property when they spotted Agent Mitchell advancing towards them. Steed and Mrs. Peel immediately whirled around and strolled casually the other way, hoping Mitchell hadn't noticed them. Unfortunately, he had, and soon he was walking aside them.  
  
"Aren't you going the wrong way, Mr. Steed and Mrs. Peel?" he asked, feigning an air of indifference.   
  
"We forgot Steed's bowler at Captain Weed's house," Emma stated evenly.  
  
"Yes, and you know how I am; if one of my precious bowlers is missing, I can't sleep a wink!" Steed motioned for Mrs. Peel to keep walking in the direction of the lighthouse.  
  
"Now when did you start wearing bowlers with tee-shirts and casual pants?" Mitchell asked.  
  
Steed and Emma faced him, smiling nervously. "Mrs. Peel, how could you make such a mistake?" Steed demanded.  
  
"Well, now that we've sort that little problem out, how about if I escort you both to the hotel. Mrs. Peel needs to pack her luggage, because she's going on a little trip." Mitchell linked his arm with the beautiful Emma Peel, eyeing her lustfully.  
  
"You didn't tell me you were leaving!" Steed exclaimed pretending to be ignorant of the whole situation.   
  
"I've only just found out myself, actually!" Emma replied.  
  
"It appears to me that you're the only one who's going to be taking a little trip!" Steed informed Mitchell. With great precision and quickness, he grabbed Mitchell's legs and pulled them out from under him. Mitchell lay on the beach, barely moving, the wind knocked out of him.  
  
Steed and Mrs. Peel hurried in the direction of the resort once more. In a short duration, Mr. Mitchell had dragged himself to his feet and had caught up with the twosome. He pulled on Steed's arm, hindering him from escaping. With powerful surge, he punched Steed squarely in the nose.  
  
Steed returned the gesture by socking him in the breadbasket followed immediately by a strong hit in the jaw. Emma quickly joined the brawl, chopping Mitchell in the neck with a powerful karate stroke.   
  
Mitchell turned upon Mrs. Peel, ready to pounce on the amateur sleuth. He grabbed her wrists, trying his best to twist them fully around. Emma gritted her teeth against the immense amount of pain that seared through her arms. She managed to grab hold of his own wrist with her throbbing hands, and with several swift maneuvers she flipped him onto the sand. Out of breath, Mitchell forced out a moan of pain as he struggled to his feet. He never made it, though, for he collapsed onto the golden sand and laid still.  
  
Mrs. Peel and Mr. Steed cautiously approached the inert body, prodding it gently with their feet. Once satisfied that their opponent was unconscious, Steed hefted the limp man unto his shoulders and carried him to the hotel's doctor's office. Emma followed closely behind Steed, casually swinging her hat as if knocking out people was an everyday occurrence, which it was for her. After some brief instructions on what to do with Mitchell, Steed and Mrs. Peel left him in the capable hands of the nurse.   
  
Emma Peel retreated into her suite shortly after, declaring that she was going to soak in a bubble bath until dinner. Steed was likewise ready to relax, but he wasn't going to have that privilege. As soon as he entered his hotel room, he spotted the unfortunate Tara. She was still bound and gagged, but she looked sound asleep.   
  
"Tara, my dear girl, whatever happened?" Steed knelt on the ground and began untying the hapless victim.  
  
Tara stirred from her light slumber and raised a wary eyelid. As soon as her eyes rested on Steed, she gave a little cry of excitement. "Steed, Mitchell tied me up, and now he's looking for you."  
  
"I know; I met Mitchell on the beach. I dare say that he'll be out of commission for quite some time." Steed went over to his window and opened it to allow some fresh air into the stuffy room.  
  
"I trust you didn't leave him on the beach!" Tara cried.  
  
"Of course not; he's downstairs in the doctor's surgery."  
  
"When the doctor mends him, he'll just come after you again!"  
  
"I don't think we need to worry about that. The doctor happens to be a very good friend of mine. He'll know what to do with Agent Mitchell, so don't worry your pretty little head over anything."  
  
As Steed finished speaking, a loud noise emerged from his partly opened window. The two spies curiously advanced to the window and peered out in order to examine the situation. Tara and Steed beheld Hardy Korall, waiting patiently for Waverly, who appeared several seconds later.  
  
"You'd better get back," Steed warned Tara protectively. She meekly obeyed, and waited on his sofa as Steed listen to their conversation.  
  
"I just wanted to remind you that we meet by the lighthouse at midnight!" Korall sternly gazed into his accomplice's eyes, waiting for a nod. "We'd better not meet here anymore."   
  
Steed slowly crept away from the glass, but it was too late. Korall detected movement from Steed's window and looked up just as he sneaked away into the shadows. "Waverly," Korall began slowly and evilly, "find out who lives in that hotel room and kill him."  
  
Steed, ignorant of Korall's order for Waverly to depose of him, escorted Tara to the door, promising to see her later. The two stepped into the hallway and were surprised to see Martin King knocking on Emma Peel's door.   
  
Dr. King gazed carelessly around the hall until he spotted Steed and Tara. With a little start of surprise, he asked, "What are you doing, spying over there?"  
  
"You just answered the question yourself," Steed retorted. "Actually I was just wondering what on earth you're doing here instead of being at your surgery."  
  
"I'm off duty; it's another doctor's turn to take care of the patients." King was about to knock on the door again, when Steed made an unsatisfied "tisking" noise.  
  
"This won't do at all. Do you realise I sent a patient to the surgery, so you could treat him?" Steed demanded.  
  
"Thank you, for your patronage, but my business is doing fine without you finding patients for me," King tranquilly informed him.  
  
"But that patient needs to be dealt with immediately! He wants to harm Mrs. Peel, take her back with him to England."  
  
"Mother wants Agent Mitchell to separate Steed and her permanently," Tara added.  
  
Steed stared at Tara in alarm. "I wasn't aware of that part!"  
  
King heaved an exasperated sigh as he asked, "What's the fellow's name?"  
  
"Agent Rutherford P. Mitchell."  
  
"And what am I supposed to do with him?"  
  
"Hide him somewhere where nobody can find him until we're finished with this case."  
  
King gave a dismayed cry and shook his head. "You know what you're asking me to do is kidnap the fellow, and I won't have any part of it."  
  
"Please doctor," Tara entreated him, "it would only be for a few days, and nobody needs to know about it. If you could take him to your house . . ."  
  
"I don't know how I always get talked into these dangerous schemes, but all right. I'll see what I can do-after I talk with Mrs. Peel." Martin King promptly knocked on the door again.  
  
"Why is it so urgent that you speak to Mrs. Peel?" Steed inquired.  
  
"I've figured out what's wrong with her, and I just wanted to tell her the news."  
  
"Just give me the message, and I'll tell her," Steed suggested.  
  
"Thank you, but no, I'd rather give her the information myself." Dr. King's voice had turned icy in several seconds.  
  
Steed thought it best to change the subject, which he did quite smoothly with the comment, "Dr. King, I don't believe you know Miss Tara King; Tara, this is Dr. Martin King, an old associate of mine."  
  
Dr. King remembered Mrs. Peel's conversation from yesterday and how she knew a Miss King who was, "not exactly the brightest of women." He decided to keep that knowledge in confidence and merely murmured his, "how do you do's." He sighed as he realised that Emma was not going to make an appearance and decided to return to the surgery to carry out Steed's plan.  
  
"Dr. King," Tara called after him, "we're meeting several friends of ours for dinner, tonight at eight o'clock at nightclub. We'd be so happy if you'd join us as well."  
  
King gazed wearily at Steed, who had his head down as if he disapproved of Tara's invitation. "I'll see if I can make it, but, remember, I have a man I must kidnap and care for." With that biting remark, King marched out of view.  
  
To Be Continued! 


	7. Second Night

Second Night  
  
Doctor King did join them for dinner, and after Steed introduced everybody, the six spies settled back to enjoy a relaxing meal. Steed and Mrs. Peel hastily informed every one of the latest developments, and then they all began having leisurely discussions with one another. Smyth and Steed discussed the itinerary for the next day, while Dr. King and Mrs. Gale spent the hour comparing their doctor degrees. Miss King and Mrs. Peel listened into whatever conversation they liked.  
  
"I've never met an anthropologist before," King told Mrs. Gale admiringly.  
  
"Well, it's nothing that special," Cathy told him, blushing with each word.  
  
Smyth frowned a little at King's obvious attention to his girlfriend and stopped talking in mid-sentence.  
  
"You were saying, Smyth," Steed prodded.  
  
"Oh yes, we can't rent any more boats from the pier, because the owner is convinced that it was my fault that the boat got harpooned."  
  
"How are we supposed to investigate if we have no mode of transportation?" Steed shook his head, evidently displeased at this turn of events. Suddenly he smiled as a plan formed in his head. "I know a certain person who may be able to rent us her boats, Miss Larraine Crabbe!"  
  
"We have no idea if she is responsible for these deaths," Emma reminded him.  
  
"Then I guess we'll find out tomorrow when I ask her for the use of her boats," Steed replied confidently.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer for the nightclub began, "I proudly present Miss Rhiannon Lake." A gorgeous singer stepped onto a brightly lit stage.  
  
Over the loud applause Steed commented, "I was half expecting Venus Smith to come out and sing."  
  
"Just so you all know," King started, "I have to be home at midnight. I need all the rest I can get before I start work tomorrow."  
  
"Midnight . . ." Steed repeated, deep in thought. He snapped his fingers as he recalled a vital clue. "Yesterday and just a little while ago in my room, I overheard Hardy Korall say that he and his men were going to start looking for the treasure tonight at midnight over by the lighthouse."   
  
"That leaves us only three more hours to enjoy ourselves if we want to see what they're up to," Tara remarked as she glanced at her watch.  
  
"Let's all finish our dinners, and then go to either Steed's or my suite to come up with a suitable plan," Emma suggested. The proposition was readily accepted, and in twenty minutes, the sextet was lounging in Steed's hotel room.  
  
"Now, who should be the one or ones to spy on the group?" Emma poured a plentiful glass of brandy for Steed and handed it to him.   
  
"I think the most experienced spy should go," Smyth declared, hurrying up to the bar to get a drink for himself.  
  
"Splendid, then I'll just slip out of this suit and into something more appropriate for walking on a beach," Steed replied, not realising how arrogant he sounded.  
  
Trying to control her temper, Cathy remarked, "You know, Steed, not everyone in here thinks that you are the most experienced spy."  
  
Steed nearly dropped his brandy glass as he said, "Surely you're not suggesting that Smyth is the best spy here?"  
  
"That's exactly what we're saying," Cathy snapped. Smyth, Steed, and Mrs. Gale immediately began arguing the point, much to the chagrin of the other three.  
  
"Why don't we two just do the spying?" Tara asked Mrs. Peel. "It certainly would save us a whole lot of trouble.  
  
"That's a fine idea, but how do we tell those three that?" Emma nodded her head towards the squabbling trio.  
  
"No Mrs. Peel, I insist you stay here, and somebody else go!" Martin King persisted.  
  
Steed stopped short at this comment and pronounced, "Mrs. Peel is an excellent spy, and unlike you, she doesn't get caught!"  
  
Mrs. Peel realised that another argument was about to begin and quickly added, "Every spy, regardless how good they are, gets caught at least once in their career."  
  
"It's settled then: Mrs. Peel and I will go investigate Hardy Korall and his crew." Steed sipped his brandy and leaned back on his couch.  
  
"You're insufferable, John Steed!" Cathy shouted angrily.  
  
"Thank you, my dear!" Steed replied, unfazed by the insult.  
  
"Steed, I'll be in my room getting ready for later," Emma informed him. She quitted his suite and entered her own. She changed into her black catsuit with the silver lining and the large silver zipper down the front. She could camouflage much better in the shadows in that outfit.  
  
Emma leaned back on her sofa, closing her eyes. She would only rest a little bit before her outing . . .  
  
**********  
  
Emma awoke with a start and glanced apprehensively at a nearby clock. She relaxed as she noted that the time was ten minutes to midnight. She hadn't slept through the appointment, as she had feared.   
  
She grabbed an electric torch, exited her room, and knocked on Steed's door. Tara opened the door and breathlessly informed her, "Steed and Smyth are still arguing over who should be the one to spy. I thought they had stopped when we began playing cards to hours ago, but now . . . Steed wants you to go ahead, and he or Smyth will meet you by the sight."  
  
Emma shrugged and ventured out into the dark night. She walked gingerly down the beach, making sure not to trip on rocks or shells. Several times she was certain she had spotted an alligator, or some other unsavory creature lying on the sand, but when she flashed her light on the object, it was merely driftwood or a brush of some kind.  
  
After what seemed an interminable time, Mrs. Peel heard voices and saw numerous dim figures preparing to go out to sea in their dinghies. She quickly shut off her torch and crouched low in the sand. The men held their own torches in their one hand as their other hand busily worked to get ready for departure. Mrs. Emma Peel watched this procedure with great interest from a distance, wondering why they were looking for treasure at night in small boats.  
  
"All right, men, let's go!" bellowed the familiar voice of Hardy Korall. As his men started the dinghies' engines, he hopped into one of the boats. The little watercrafts cruised out into the Caribbean, their engines droning deafeningly.  
  
Mrs. Peel's gaze followed the boats until it rested on what appeared to be a large ship just below the horizon. She couldn't tell what sort of ship it was or why Korall's dinghies were heading towards it. For fifteen minutes, Emma Peel watched the boats speed along the water before they finally reached the craft. About six men climbed aboard while the rest steered the dinghies in the opposite direction of the ship.   
  
The ship sailed for several miles before it mysteriously vanished into a mist that lay heavily over the water. After countless minutes, some of the men in the little cruisers held onto their waterproof torches tightly and dove into the water. The remaining men just sat in the boats, keeping them from drifting away from the diving spot. The men were ready to assist their partners if the need arose.  
  
Emma staid stationed in the sand for almost a full half-hour, hoping to see any sign of activity other than the bobbing of the dinghies as they were pushed by the waves. After a half an hour of no results, she decided it was time to retire. Frustrated and exhausted, she headed back to the resort. To add to her aggravation, she was exceedingly exasperated with Steed and Smyth's childish behavior. Because of their argument, nether one of them had come to help her spy.   
  
Emma Peel did not often get angry with her partner in crime, John Steed, but this time he had exceeded his limits. She marched resolutely down the beach, ready to lecture Steed.  
  
Meanwhile, as Mrs. Peel was heading back to the hotel, Waverly approached Steed's suite, clutching a revolver. He hid himself in the shadows, hoping that Mr. John Steed, the tenant of the room, would appear soon. He had to kill Steed before he returned to the excavation site, or Professor Korall would be furious.  
  
Just then, a man dressed in dinner clothes appeared from the suite. Waverly quickly surveyed the man: tall, dark brown hair-yes, this was definitely Steed. He would recognise the back of his head anywhere. With a nervous smile, he hid the gun and followed Steed down the hall and out of the building.   
  
The two stayed in the shadows as they traveled down the beach toward the lighthouse. Waverly stopped for a moment, confused. Steed was heading straight toward where Korall's men were searching for treasure! He had to kill Steed now before he reached the site.  
  
Waverly sneaked closer to the man until he could hear him breathing. Then, he removed the gun from his coat pocket, placed a silencer over the mouth, and pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. "That'll stop your snooping, John Steed!" Waverly cried before he ran off into the darkness.  
  
The spy slumped to the ground, writhing in pain. He lifted his hand and felt the one hole in his back. The stupid murderer had missed twice, but the last bullet had hit him. Quickly, knowing death was near, the weak man wrote out a message in the sand with his own blood.   
  
************  
  
Emma had almost reached the resort property when she stumbled upon something long and warm. Shining her torch directly below, she peered at the ground to discover a fresh, bloody corpse, face down in the sand. With a look of repulsion planted on her face, Emma examined the body. She determined that he had been shot in the back and had died only several minutes ago.   
  
Suddenly an eerie thought dawned on her: she knew this man. Emma trembled, and her blood chilled as she carefully rolled the body over. She tried to stop the dizziness and the nausea that filled her as she stared at the twisted countenance of the corpse, the late Richard Smyth.  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
Note: I know you're probably thinking, "Why did you have to kill Smyth?" I promise you that Cathy will not be heartbroken and lonely for long . . . 


	8. Fourth Day

Fourth Day  
  
"There was a message written in blood, next to the body, which read, 'That was meant for you, Steed!'" Emma finished explaining the gruesome details of Smyth's body and the area around it.  
  
Steed, who had been pacing up and down, stopped abruptly. "This is all my fault."  
  
Tara placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "No, it isn't, Steed. You wanted him to stay behind and have yourself and Mrs. Peel investigate the premises.  
  
"You'd think an experienced spy would know when a person is following him," Martin remarked quietly.  
  
Cathy merely gazed distantly out the window, not speaking, not hearing.  
  
Mrs. Peel wearily sat down in the nearest chair, while Dr. King fetched her a glass of water. Mrs. Peel would have rather had some spirits, but she obediently drank the water.  
  
As an idea formed in his head, Steed wriggled out of Tara King's grasp. "I'll bet Korall and Waverly saw me spying earlier and wanted to kill me. So they attacked the man who resembled me greatly, Smyth! That's what Smyth's message meant!"  
  
"I think what we all need is some rest," suggested Martin King. "I'll escort you to your room, Mrs. Gale," he offered gently. The disconcerted lady merely nodded her head in reply. If she had uttered but three syllables, she would have burst into inconsolable tears.  
  
King addressed Emma once before quitting the room with Cathy. "You'd better get to bed immediately, Mrs. Peel, especially with your not feeling well."  
  
Emma barely heard his words, for she was nodding off. Suddenly, supportive arms were helping her to her feet and escorting her to her room: Steed! His goodnight almost didn't register in her jumbled brain. She had just enough energy to make it to her bed, where she promptly laid down and fell asleep.  
  
Only minutes later, or what seemed so, she was awoken by the urgent repetition of her name.   
  
"Mrs. Peel, Mrs. Peel, please wake up," entreated Tara. She gingerly shook the drowsy Emma from her slumber.  
  
Emma responded by opening a droopy eyelid and gazing at her intruder. "What are you doing in my suite this early in the morning?"  
  
"Why, it's almost ten o'clock, Mrs. Peel!" Tara cried defensively. She set down a tray of food on a side table while adding, "I took the liberty of bringing you breakfast."  
  
Emma sat upright, realizing just how hungry she was. She smiled gratefully at the young lady before her. She knew what an effort it was for Tara to be cordial to her. Guiltily, Emma recalled times when she had been far from gracious to Tara. While she devoured her food, she asked a question that was never far from her mind. "Where is Steed?"  
  
"He went down to the Crabbes' scuba shop to work out matters with Larraine. Dr. King is at his practice, and Cathy-well, she's still in her room. Dr. King reported that after he escorted Mrs. Gale to her room last night she immediately broke down. He let her cry, thinking it would be best to get her emotions out." Tara shuddered as she added, "I don't know what I would do if I lost . . . someone I loved." She had almost uttered Steed's name, but she didn't want Mrs. Peel to know her true feelings for Steed.  
  
However, Mrs. Peel was well aware of Tara's love for Steed, just as Miss King knew of Emma's love for the dapper man with the bowler and umbrella. After several seconds of a permeating silence, Emma remarked to no one in particular, "I suppose will just have to wait for Steed."  
  
Meanwhile, Steed was busily working his way into the heart of Larraine Crabbe, or at least he was trying to. "I say, you look remarkably stunning in that outfit, Miss Crabbe." Steed followed the unfortunate lady around the store.  
  
Miss Crabbe stopped in her tracks, and Steed immediately ran into her. "Look, Steed, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I'm very busy and would appreciate it if you would just leave me alone!"  
  
"I need your help in a certain matter. You see, it's really quite embarrassing. The owner of the boathouse thinks that we harpooned his boat, and now he won't let us rent any more crafts."  
  
"That's not my concern, Sir." Trying to keep her temper at the overly annoying Steed, Larraine rang up an item for a very impatient customer. "Besides, how can I help you?"  
  
Steed had been waiting for this question and he quickly replied, "I noticed that you and your father own two boats. If you could lend us these boats; I'd pay you in advance."  
  
Larraine chuckled contemptuously at his comment. "You want to borrow our little dinghies and take them out into deep waters? That's very dangerous."  
  
"Funny, Mrs. Peel saw several people steering little motor boats into deep water yesterday night," Steed remarked nonchalantly.  
  
"Why-why that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Larraine sputtered. "Who are these people?"  
  
"They claim to be scientists." Steed swung his brolly as he strolled to the door. "Well, I guess the treasure of R. MeBuckles means nothing to you."   
  
Larraine looked up at her relative's name and slowly turned to gaze at Steed. "YOU are looking for my treasure? Since that's the case, I will certainly not help you in any way, shape, or form."  
  
"Come now, I'm only looking for the treasure so that your family will be content and happy. If I find the treasure, I will most gladly hand it over to you. Besides, I want you to steer my boat."  
  
"Why should I believe you?"  
  
"Because I'm a respectable gentleman who never stints on his word, especially where ladies are concerned."  
  
"I'll believe the last part, but you being a gentlemen is up for debate. All right, I'll help you, and I guarantee that you will have a boat for your disposal before the hour." Larraine told her father where she was going and quickly exited the store with Steed.  
  
Steed hurried to keep up with Larraine's long stride. "I don't mean to sound rude, but why are you so sure that the owner of the boathouse will lend you a boat?"   
  
"I happen to know the owner personally."  
  
"Who's the owner?"  
  
"Does the name 'Paris Brown,' ring a bell?"  
  
Several miles later, the two arrived at the pier. They entered the boathouse and were immediately bombarded by Paris. He stopped short at the sight of John Steed and scowled.  
  
Larraine explained the situation to Paris, to which he replied, "I'll only lend you a boat on one condition."  
  
"If I have to go on a date with you, forget the whole thing," Larraine snapped.  
  
"Actually, that would be nice, but no. I just want to come along with you and search for the treasure."  
  
Before Miss Crabbe could make any protestations, Steed replied, "We accept your terms, Mr. Brown. I'll see you in approximately forty-five minutes."  
  
Steed arrived back at the boathouse exactly forty-five minutes later with Emma and Tara at his side. Cathy was still grieving the loss of her beau, and Dr. King was, of course, at his surgery.  
  
Larraine and Paris were standing outside of his shop, waiting expectantly. A "Closed," sign was hung on the boathouse door. "What happened to your other gentlemen friend from yesterday?" Paris asked, referring to Smyth.  
  
"Richard Smyth was murdered yesterday evening, so sorry, he can't pay for the damages to your boat," Steed returned icily. Needless to say, Paris was unusually quiet after that remark.   
  
The five were soon cruising the Sea in their boat, Tara and Steed conversing on the starboard side, and Larraine and Emma on the port side. Paris was steering the boat, utterly enjoying himself.  
  
While the boat sped across the waters, Tara asked Steed, "What if there is another whirlpool?"   
  
"Then we can eliminate Larraine and Paris as possible suspects, because why would they put themselves in danger?"  
  
"Considering your near to death experience yesterday, you're being exceedingly flippant about it," Tara retorted.  
  
"My dear, there is no other way for us to figure out this mystery than to put ourselves in harm's way." Steed stared at Tara, his eyes penetrating her, trying to make her understand.  
  
"I still think you're wrong." If the Avengers knew what danger was awaiting them, they would have realised that Tara was right.  
  
Soon they arrived at the site of the shipwreck. Emma and Larraine volunteered to go scuba diving first for the treasure. Steed and Paris both valiantly argued that they should go, but the ladies insisted and finally convinced the men.  
  
Images of yesterday's catastrophe still fresh in his mind, John Steed nervously watched the slender and supple Emma Peel hoist herself over the side and into the water. Maybe Tara had been smart to think this plan was a dubious one.  
  
Mrs. Peel and Miss Crabbe swam for fifteen minutes without any difficulties of any kind, save for a few encounters with dangerous looking fish. Emma was beginning to suspect that Larraine was indeed the murderer of Smyth and the cause of all the trouble. She decided to keep her guard up at all times, lest Miss Crabbe tried to kill or injure her as well.  
  
Emma and Larraine both knew that if the treasure hadn't been stolen, it was doubtlessly in the bowels of the ship. They searched every inch of the deck of the sunken vessel, but found no way of getting inside it. When almost a half hour had passed, the two women decided to let the men have a chance to dive.   
  
To add to the turmoil, their scuba tanks were nearly empty. Frustrated and tired, they swam to the surface. As soon as their heads broke the water's surface, Mrs. Peel and Miss Crabbe became aware of the incessant droning of several engines.  
  
Pulling of her mask, Emma called to Steed, "What's all that racket?"  
  
"It's just some party-animals out for a pleasure cruise in their boats; ignore them. They've been here for twenty minutes and haven't done a thing," was Steed's reply. Emma merely shrugged as she breaststroked her way toward the boats.   
  
Suddenly, the "party-animals," veered in Larraine and Emma's direction. With increasing momentum, they charged at the spies' vessels. At the last minute they changed their course, barely missing Emma and the spies' craft! The speedboats started heading toward the unfortunate scuba divers, again.  
  
"Clear out; we can handle them!" Larraine strongly commanded Paris and Steed.  
  
"I won't leave you, Lara!" Paris shouted in a futile attempt to be gallant.   
  
Tara likewise tried to persuade Paris to head for shore. "If we don't get out of here, the other boats could smash us and create an explosion. Then everyone will be dead, and I know you don't want that!"  
  
Paris reluctantly agreed that Tara was correct and turned the craft around. He gritted his teeth as he heard the relentless cacophony of the engines from the enemy boats. He would have rather thrown himself in front of the boats than to leave two defenseless ladies to a sealed doom.   
  
Steed looked back to see Emma swimming desperately in the opposite direction of the boats. "Mrs. Peel didn't have enough air to wait out the attacks of the boat under the water, or she would have dove under by now," he muttered. As he watched the two ladies struggle against their adversaries, his emotions overcame him. "No, I won't leave Emma!" In three giant steps he had come upon Paris. He punched Mr. Brown squarely in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the deck. Steed turned the ship in the direction of the three speedboats.  
  
Meanwhile, Larraine and Emma swam frantically, creating zigzag patterns in the clear waters. First they would travel in one specific route, only to be cut off by the boats. Then they would make a 360-degree turn and swim in the opposite direction. It was an arduous task, one that exhausted Emma in a matter of minutes.   
  
Before she could comprehend what exactly was happening, she was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. With one last endeavor, she struggled to the surface close to the enemy boats. Two sturdy men pulled her into the boat and shoved her into a corner. Emma Peel grasped for air before promptly fainting.  
  
When Miss Crabbe spotted the adversaries kidnapping Emma, she gave an unruly scream. Without thinking, she powerfully swam over to the boats and began banging on the sides. Miss Crabbe had vanquished many a strong man, so she figured she could do the same with these antagonists. Unfortunately, the men she had out bested had not been toting guns and pointing them at her head. With a cry of defeat, Larraine allowed the men to pull her into the vessel.   
  
Steed drove full throttle at the captors' boats, not heeding a word of Tara's entreaties to slow down. He ordered Paris to take over the steering and prepared to jump aboard the other crafts. Paris slowed the boat, so Steed could leap onto the other vessels without endangering his life as much as before.  
  
With a giant grunt, Steed leapt into the air and landed with a thud on the other deck. The enemies were caught off guard, but they quickly recovered. They attacked the enraged Steed, hitting and kicking the Englishman. Steed eschewed most of the onslaught, but his strength was rapidly disintegrating. With a last futile attempt, he struggled with a burly giant. The brawny man swiftly grabbed Steed by the color of his diving suit and threw him against the side of the boat.  
  
Steed moaned in pain and tried to stand up. He made it two feet before toppling backwards over the side of the boat!   
  
Tara immediately dove into the water in order to save the unconscious Steed. She quickly found him and dragged him back to the boat, where Paris was able to haul him in. By the time Steed revived, the boats had disappeared into the horizon. "Your death, Smyth, and your kidnapping, Miss Crabbe and Mrs. Peel, will be avenged!" proclaimed Steed, venom in his usual charming voice.   
  
"I guess this means Larraine is not in league with the enemies," Tara quietly said. She didn't even dare to look into Steed's gray eyes.   
  
"You're going to pay, Steed. This is your fault that my Lara is gone!" Paris shouted.  
  
Steed stared at him in astonishment before replying, "Who was the one who decided to leave Miss Crabbe and Mrs. Peel to their own demise?"  
  
"It doesn't matter who did that. You're the one who wanted to go diving for treasure to begin with! I just wanted to be near my Larraine, to hear her lovely voice-"   
  
"Why, Paris is it possible that you are in love with Miss Crabbe?" Steed sat still, trying to digest this information.  
  
"Of course, didn't you see it before?" Tara asked in exasperation. At times, Steed knew absolutely nothing about love. "Did anyone get a good look at the boaters' faces?" Several shakes of the head were all the answer that Tara needed. "So there's no way that we can find Mrs. Peel and Miss Crabbe." Disheartened, the trio headed back to port, their thoughts never straying from the kidnapped pair.  
  
Meanwhile, Cathy was sitting on the beach, forlornly watching the tide come in. She was in the middle of a patch of prickly brush, completely separated from the rest of the happy tourists playing in the sand. If anyone had seen her, they would have deemed her most foolish, but Cathy didn't care. She just wanted to grieve the lost of her loved-one somewhere besides the suffocating close quarters of her hotel room.  
  
Presently thunderclouds rolled over the azure sky, and the merry-makers on the beach disappointedly headed back to the resort. Cathy remained in her spot, not caring if she and her black attire got soaked in a torrential down pour.   
  
Presently, four muscular men appeared over a hill, dragging Mrs. Peel and another woman with them! Cathy assumed that the other woman was the much talked about Larraine Crabbe. Before anyone could spot her, Cathy crawled behind a large piece of driftwood. The dark colour of the wood almost matched her black apparel, and her blond hair was exactly the same shade as the sand.  
  
In several moments, the thugs were in front of her, discussing the impediment the two ladies were causing in their schemes. "We're never going to find that treasure if we've got to look out for two birds," the first thug complained.   
  
"Hush your mouth, Riley, before you say something you'll regret," a second brute snapped.  
  
"We had already figured out your plans," a wan Emma informed the crew. She allowed the obnoxious ruffian to drag her across the sand. If she had the strength she would have resisted the unruly behavior of her abductors.  
  
"We're should we take the impertinent lass?" demanded Riley.  
  
"To our hideout, of course," a third thug spoke up, "and remember, we're supposed to pick up Miss Ellyn from the airport at three o'clock. She'll be on flight 4097 from New York City."  
  
"We've got plenty of time to dispose of these two ladies and get to the airport," retorted the second man. The voices faded in the distance as the men ventured down a worn path which undoubtedly led to their hideaway.   
  
Cathy remained in her sprawled position for several seconds until she was certain they were out of view. She tried in vain to follow the footsteps of the criminals, but they soon disappeared in the grass that ran alongside the edge of the beach. Exasperated, Mrs. Gale ran with all her strength towards the hotel, devising a plan to rescue her close acquaintance. With Steed, Tara, and Dr. King's help, they would be able to save the two prisoners before it was too late!  
  
To Be Continued . . . . 


	9. Third Afternoon

Third Afternoon  
  
At ten minutes to three, Steed was waiting on the runway of the airport for a Miss Ellyn to emerge from the appointed airplane. He didn't know what sort of connection she had with the kidnappers, but he knew that any information he could drag from her would be invaluable. If it was at all possible he was going to hold Miss Ellyn a captive while Tara or Cathy impersonated her.  
  
Dr. King had left his practice early, and was now occupied in being on the lookout for any unsavory characters, namely the men who had abducted Mrs. Peel and Larraine. Tara and Cathy were sitting impatiently in Dr. King's vehicle, ready to perform their part of the plan as soon as Steed appeared.  
  
Steed squinted into the entrance of the plane, wondering once again how long it took a woman to get off. Finally an attractive, young lady descended the rollaway stairs and stepped onto the runway. Steed advanced toward her, certain she was the lady he was looking for. "Miss Ellyn, I presume?" he asked in his usual gentlemanly fashion.  
  
"Yes, that's me, and are you Mr. Riley, or are you another one of Korall's cohorts?" the tall brunette inquired.  
  
"I am John Steed, and I'm here to escort you to wherever you want to go." Steed jovially followed the oblivious Miss Ellyn. They retrieved her luggage and in several minutes were approaching Dr. King's car. "So, have you ever met Mr. Riley, or 'the boss' before?" Steed asked, hoping she would disclose some vital information about the case.  
  
"No, I was merely sent here by our New York branch."  
  
Steed was relieved that nobody on Paradisa Island knew what Miss Ellyn looked like, but he was disappointed that she was as clueless as he was about the whole evil operation. He smiled gregariously as he ushered Miss Ellyn into King's car, right into the barrel of Cathy's pistol. "Tie her up, Tara. Don't move that gun away from her head, Mrs. Gale!" Steed rudely pushed the flabbergasted lady into the auto.   
  
Deftly, Tara wrapped a gag over Miss Ellyn's mouth, while Steed assisted her in tying the rest of the abducted woman. "I think you'll be a perfect replacement for Miss Ellyn, Tara," Steed remarked. "Now, do you think you can pull off an American accent?"  
  
"That will be the easiest part," Tara returned, already using her pseudo-American accent. "I just hope I look American enough." She was referring to her apparel; for she was attired in a purple, long sleeve blouse, green pants, and a green vest.  
  
"I think you look better than Miss Ellyn, my dear. Now take her luggage and wait for any conspicuous looking characters." Steed gently pushed Tara, who was grasping the suitcases, out of the car and firmly shut the door behind her.   
  
Having just run a long distance, Martin approached his automobile, panting and sweating. I just spotted three men who fit Mrs. Gale's description, so you'd better hurry." After relaying that piece of information to Miss King, he hopped into the driver's seat of the car.  
  
Tara took a deep breath and entered the airport terminal. She almost collided with three burly men, all attired in black suits and fedoras. "Are you Miss Ellyn?" one of them demanded more severely than was necessary.  
  
"Yes, and I suppose you are the men who are to show me around Paradisa Island?" Tara replied collectively.  
  
The man didn't respond, but extended his arm as if to shake her hand. "Do you know the secret handshake?"   
  
Tara panicked momentarily until another thug piped up, "Come off it, Riley; we haven't used the secret handshake in a year."  
  
Tara managed to smile good-naturedly at the group of hooligans as they led her to their vehicle. Tara gazed out the window as the car lurched forward and headed down the road. She kept her eyes fastened to the window the entire trip, trying to memorise the route to the hideaway. Riley and the rest of the gang informed her about two "trespassers," who were caught around the treasure site. She knew they were referring to Emma and Larraine.   
  
Soon they pulled up to a bungalow in obvious disarray. The door hung crookedly on its hinges, the paint was peeling, and the windows lay shattered on the ground. "This hideout is in bad condition compared to our submarine base," Riley apologised.  
  
Tara wondered where this submarine base was located and what connection the underwater vessels had to do with the mystery. Bringing her attention back to the bungalow, she held her breath in anticipation and climbed the dilapidated steps into the building. To her utter amazement, there was nothing inside the bungalow, save a few broken pieces of furniture and a lever situated in the corner of the room. Certain she had been duped, she turned to stare at the enemy. The man named Riley returned the penetrating stare before pulling the lever. A trapdoor swung open in the floor, revealing a staircase. The cluster of solemn people ventured down the steps to where Mrs. Peel and Miss Crabbe were being held captive.  
  
"I've told you all I know," Emma repeated less convincingly to her interrogator, Hardy Korall. "I'm Mrs. Emma Peel; I come from England; and I'm here on a holiday." She slunk weakly against the wooden pillar the enemies had tied her to. If she was asked once more who she was and where she came from, she was certain she was going to become violently ill.   
  
"I know you're lying Mrs. Peel, for as I recall when you first arrived in Paradisa, you claimed to be a reporter." As Professor Korall let this piece of dialogue sink into Emma's addlepated brain, he approached Larraine, who snarled angrily at him. "Now what does this trespasser know?"   
  
"We were not 'trespassing'! You do not own the Caribbean Sea, nor do you own my father and my treasure!" Larraine writhed as she tried to break free from her own bonds. She was tied to an identical pillar in another area.  
  
"So, you are the infamous Larraine Crabbe! Well, I'm sorry to say this, but as soon as you and your father are . . . dead, the treasure will belong to whomever finds it first."  
  
"The treasure will then belong to the next in line in the MeBuckles family," shouted Larraine.  
  
"Then will just have to eliminate the remainder of the MeBuckles line," Korall's assistant Waverly spoke up. They chuckled nefariously, while Larraine looked on in disgust. "If all the lineage of R. MeBuckles dies, the treasure will belong to the public, correct Miss Crabbe?"  
  
Miss Crabbe did not reply, defeated for the moment. "Do want you will with me, but let Mrs. Peel go free. She knows nothing about the treasure; she just likes to scuba dive."  
  
At this moment, Tara and the other thugs clomped down the stairs. "So these are two trespassers you were telling me about. They don't look very threatening." Tara gazed at Larraine, pleading with her eyes to not reveal her true identity. Larraine understood the look and remained silent.   
  
"They won't tell me what they know of our plan!" Professor Korall complained.  
  
"Let me talk to them. Maybe they'll be more cooperative with a woman." Tara gestured for the men to leave the three ladies alone, and they reluctantly filed out of the room. Once she was positive the couldn't be heard, Tara began to untie Emma, saying, "I got here as soon as I could. Mrs. Gale overheard the kidnappers talking about a certain lady ally who was to arrive at the airport today and I was able to take her place." Tara had finished untying Mrs. Peel, so she began to assist Larraine.  
  
"I don't suppose you know how we're to get out of here alive?" Emma asked, out of breath.  
  
"We've got everything under control, trust me." Tara ushered the two bewildered women up the stairs. When they reached the top, she smiled confidently and told the gang of kidnappers, "I've gotten all the information we need out of these girls; it's time to dispatch them."  
  
Mrs. Peel stared wide-eyed at Tara, convinced she had lost her mind. "We'll do it outside, where the blood won't be as noticeable." Miss King produced a long dagger, which was admired by each of the villains. She marched resolutely to the door, turned the knob, and stepped outside. Korall motioned for his four thugs to follow Tara with the two prisoners. They gloated evilly as they pushed Emma and Larraine out the door. He and Waverly followed, each thinking what a marvelous idea it had been to bring Miss Ellyn out to the island.  
  
"Excuse me, would you like a copy of the Britannica Encyclopedia?" inquired a debonair voice that could only belong to John Steed.   
  
Nine pairs of eyes turned to stare at the tall man with the impeccable, brown three-piece suit and bowler. Steed smiled convivially at the aggravated faces, and shaking his head, made several "tsking" sounds. "Oh dear, don't tell me you don't approve of door-to-door salesmen?"  
  
"They only don't approve of salesmen when they're toting weapons," Cathy retorted, stepping out from behind a palm tree. She clenched a tiny pistol in her hands, pointed exactly at Korall's chest.  
  
"Kill them, all of THEM RIGHT NOW!" bellowed Korall. He dove into the sand just as Cathy fired her gun.  
  
At this opportune moment, Emma turned on her brute and gave him a great karate kick in the chin. The man was stunned by the blow, but remained upright on his feet. He chuckled, as if he was amused at her attempt to injure him, and tried to heft Mrs. Peel over his shoulders. As he elongated his arm toward Emma, she grabbed it and dexterously flipped him over her shoulder. Brushing back a piece of her reddish brown hair, she gazed at the inert body, a look of pleasure on her lovely face.   
  
Meanwhile, Larraine's thug had decided to drag her back into the bungalow. Now completely irritated at the man, Miss Crabbe jutted her elbows into his stomach numerous times until the ruffian let her go. Then she pummeled the hapless victim in the face, forcing him to run into the basement for safety. Larraine dashed over to the lever and pulled it with all her strength. The stupid thug was trapped in his own hideout.  
  
Tara was a little less fortunate than Larraine and Emma, for she was fighting Mr. Riley, the smartest of the four thugs. As soon as Korall had ordered the demise of the Avengers, Riley had attacked the unsuspecting Tara. However, Miss King wasted no time in putting her spy training into action. As Riley tried desperately to choke her, Tara pushed her knee right into his stomach. While he was busily regaining his composure, Tara fled to a nearby palm tree, dropping the dagger into the sand. Riley soon ran after her at a dizzying pace, not paying attention to where he was going. Tara had been standing in front of the palm, but at the last moment she jumped out of the way, and Riley ran headlong into the trunk of the tree. Tara smiled in delight, much in the same way as Mrs. Peel had minutes before.  
  
At the same time that Tara, Emma, and Larraine were warding off their enemies, Cathy was threatening Waverly with her pistol. Waverly, though inept at times, was not brainless. He realised the danger of the situation and quickly devised a plan. Before Cathy knew what had happened, he had crouched to the ground and thrown a handful of sand into her face. Cathy immediately dropped her gun, clutching her face in agony.  
  
Suddenly, Waverly felt a strong hand on his shoulder. "Playing with guns is dangerous, young man; someone could get very hurt." With incredible precision, Dr. King knocked the gun out of the surprised Waverly's hands, spun him around a few times, and pushed him into the now functioning Mrs. Gale. Mrs. Gale proceeded to powerfully judo chop the woozy man in the neck. As Waverly slumped to the ground, Cathy walked over to Martin, managing to smile, the first time in nearly twenty-four hours.  
  
As usual, Steed was fighting the boss of the whole operation, Hardy Korall. He started and ended the fight by dragging Korall out of the sand and knocking him senseless with his steel rimmed bowler.   
  
While Korall was out of commission, the fourth and last brute attacked Steed from behind. The man managed to get Steed in a death grip, but Emma sneaked up on the opponent and karate chopped him. It was a feeble strike, for the man merely released Steed and assaulted Mrs. Peel instead. Steed rushed behind Emma Peel, lifting her off the ground so that she would be able to kick the goon. Emma quickly obliged Steed with a large whack that laid out the brute.  
  
Completely exhausted, Emma wandered over to the bungalow's steps, where she immediately sat down to rest.   
  
"A little out of condition, my dear?" Steed asked, half as a reprimand and half as a joke.  
  
"I'm just a tad washed up at the moment, but I plan to be shipshape by tomorrow," Emma replied in a semiserious tone. Steed nodded in understanding, a small smile spreading across his lips.  
  
Just then, the first thug, whom Emma had rendered unconscious, revived. Getting to his feet, he advanced toward an oblivious Steed. Mrs. Peel spotted the goon first and was about to warn Steed of impending danger when Tara stepped into the scenes. With an agility of an athlete she dashed in front of him, kicking and shoving with all her strength. The brute lunged at Tara, but she dropped to the ground, feet and arms up in the air. When the man landed on her she was able to use her arms and legs to toss him over.   
  
When Tara was on her feet, Emma addressed her, saying, "I owe you a lot after saving Miss Crabbe's and my life. You can have anything you want in return."  
  
"Thank you, but I'll I can think of is a nice bottle of champagne," Tara returned as she tied several thugs up with a rope Larraine had provided.  
  
"How does a 1936 bottle of champagne sound?" Emma inquired temptingly.  
  
Tara stopped her binding to add, "Could you get it from the north side of De Grand Cru vineyard in France?"  
  
"Ah yes, the succulent taste of wine blanc de blancs from the department Ardennes is a rare and expensive treat for any wine connoisseur," Steed added.  
  
"Well, Miss King I think I can find a bottle of that delicious wine for you," Emma assured Tara.  
  
"Be certain that the champagne is sec, for I don't exactly relish mine brut," Tara warned Mrs. Peel.  
  
"I was certain they only made blanc de blancs wine from the north of De Grand Cru vineyard brut." Steed scratched his head in puzzlement over this new predicament.  
  
Cathy and Martin appeared just in time to hear the whole conversation about wines. "I don't care if you like you're champagne demi-sec!" Cathy interrupted, showing her knowledge of drinks. "I just want these scoundrels arrested, so I can return to my hotel room."   
  
"Mrs. Peel, I want you to take a rest from your long excursion," Dr. King commanded.  
  
"This time, Doctor, I quite agree with you." Emma Peel yawned as she was escorted to King's vehicle.  
  
Korall and his henchmen were arrested shortly after that. Several hours later, Emma, Steed, Cathy, and Larraine testified against the crew down at the police station. The so-called "professor" had mistreated all the Avengers in many different ways. Steed and Emma had been nearly drowned by the strange whirlpool, Cathy's beau had been murdered, and Larraine and Emma had been abducted.  
  
The chief police listened intently to the foreign spies' accounts, but at the end of the testimony, he told them, "You have no conclusive evidence that these men caused the strange phenomenon in the water. We'll hold them on the other charges, but unless you provide some evidence for the other misdemeanor, we can't convict them for your near death experience."  
  
The Avengers glumly exited the vicinity, each wondering what to do next. "I guess we'll never find out what causes the whirlpool," Tara announced, disheartened.  
  
"It must be done by some sort of machinery, but what?" added Cathy.  
  
Suddenly, Tara's eyes grew wide as an interesting thought formed. "Steed, I just remembered what Riley told me when I first saw the bungalow. He said the hideaway was in much worse condition than the submarine base."  
  
"What submarine base was he talking about?" Mrs. Peel wondered.  
  
"I don't know, but perhaps submarines are causing all this mayhem." Tara noted the disappointed countenances of her colleagues and demanded, "What's wrong with my idea?"  
  
"Captain Weed told us that submarines can't possibly cause such a whirlpool," Emma Peel told her.  
  
"Well, what if he overlooked some things?" Tara King persisted.  
  
"It might be worth investigating tomorrow," Steed exclaimed. "I suggest that we all go to the resort, have a leisurely dinner, and retire for the evening."  
  
"You three can retire, but I've promised Dr. King I'd look after Mr. Mitchell during the night," Mrs. Gale informed them all. When Steed raised his eyebrows in suspicion, she added, "With Smyth dead, I can't sleep, so I might as well do something resourceful during the long hours."  
  
"I'm sure you and Dr. King will be doing something incredibly resourceful," Steed teased her. Cathy Gale merely glared harshly at him in response.  
  
"Some things, Steed," Emma began slowly, "are better left unsaid."  
  
To Be Continued! 


	10. Fifth Day

Fifth Day  
  
Exhausted from the day's excursion, the Avengers slept soundly that night. The following morning, they all arose early, all but Mrs. Peel. She was ill once again, more so than she had ever been. When Steed entered her suite, she became even more sick and irritable.   
  
"All right, Mrs. Peel, it's time to rise and shine and solve our case!" Steed rubbed his hands brusquely, visualising the discovery of the submarine base and the treasure.   
  
"Please, Steed, go away and stay away! I'm in no mood for solving any mystery." Emma pulled her bed covers over her head in a childish manner.  
  
Steed tiptoed over to the bed, undefeated. In his genteel voice, he whispered, "Remember that champagne you promised Tara? I'll get you a bottle, too, if you'll only get out of that bed."  
  
Emma peeped out from under her blanket, a glimmer of interest in her brown eyes. "If I got out of bed this instant, would you get me three bottles of champagne?"  
  
"I'll even serve them to you on a solid gold platter!" Steed interjected ardently.  
  
Mrs. Peel began to rise then stopped and smirked. "No, I won't get up!" She threw the blanket back over her head, not listening to Steed's sounds of protestation. "If you don't leave this moment, I'll be forced to call for help!" she added. Steed sat down on the edge of her bed, not believing her juvenile behavior. "All right, Steed, you asked for it: one, two, three . . ."  
  
Steed abruptly jumped up from the bed before Emma Peel could render him deaf with an ear-shattering scream. "I'll come back for you in an hour's time, Mrs. Peel." As he stepped into his own hotel room, he noticed Dr. King entering Mrs. Peel's room. "Be careful, she's vexatious this morning!" Mr. Steed called.  
  
"She got up on the wrong side of the bed, I assume," Dr. Martin replied.  
  
"Quite the opposite, she refuses to get up on either side of the bed." Steed shut his door emphatically, still not certain what to think of the lovely Mrs. Peel's abnormal manner. Just as he was about to call Tara on the phone, he heard a noise out in the hall. Opening his door, he perceived Cathy Gale entering Mrs. Peel's suite. "What is this, an Amateur spy convention?" he nearly shouted.  
  
"Really Steed, people can hear you!" Mrs. Gale hissed in response. "Is Dr. King in here?"  
  
"Yes he is, but why you're so interested, I'll never know." Steed watched her disappear from sight before slamming the door. Being left out of secrets was not something he enjoyed. It always annoyed him not to see and know everything that was going on. It was one of the reasons he was so good at being a spy. He never rested until he found out about everything.  
  
Steed poured himself a glass of sherry and telephoned Tara's hotel room. He told her to meet him in front of the resort in ten minutes. With a satisfied sigh, he finished his drink and quitted the room, brolly in his one hand and a map in his other. As soon as he spotted Miss King, his spirits lifted considerably. Even if Mrs. Peel or Mrs. Gale disappointed him, he could always count on Tara to be loyal.  
  
As soon as Tara cordially greeted him, Steed began, "I've contacted Miss Crabbe, and she's arranged for us to take one of Mr. Brown's boats out again. Last night, Mrs. Peel and I took a stroll down the beach, and she pointed out exactly where she thought the large sea vessel disappeared. I've got the position marked on this map, so all we have to do is follow this course out to this point, and we should find our submarine base."  
  
Tara nodded in comprehension, mulling over the clues they had gathered so far.   
  
Soon the two spies were sailing the Caribbean Sea once more with Paris and Larraine. Three policemen were also present, ready to arrest some villains if the need arose.  
  
In the meantime Mrs. Gale had just entered Mrs. Peel's luxurious suite. Upon noting Dr. King, she approached him, saying, "You're just the person I wanted to see."  
  
Dr. King stared at her quizzically, wondering what the attractive woman could possibly want from him. "If you could make it very brief, I would be most grateful, for I have a rather important piece of information to relay to Mrs. Peel."  
  
"It involves Mrs. Peel, Steed, and a man called Mother. If you'll sit down, I'll explain it all to you." Cathy motioned to the sofa, hoping Martin King would be agreeable and listen. Sighing pensively, Martin seated himself.  
  
Cathy Gale proceeded to tell the whole depressing story of the Steeds, how they were brainwashed to forget they were married, and how Mother had sent Mitchell to destroy the little portion of happiness they had left. She hoped that Emma would hear her dialogue, but alas, Mrs. Peel remained sleeping in the other room the entire time.   
  
When Cathy finished her story, Martin King exclaimed, "I'm certainly glad you told me that, Dr. Gale, because I was beginning to think nasty things of John Steed."  
  
Mrs. Gale scrunched her face up in utter confusion. "I don't understand why, Doctor. Perhaps you could shed some light on the situation? I mean, what's this about Emma being ill?"  
  
"Since you told me such interesting information, I will gladly tell you mine." Dr. King cleared his throat and began his discourse.  
  
In the bedroom, Emma awoke once more to the sounds of voices. Moaning irritably, she rolled over on her side, straining to hear who was disturbing her slumber now. She detected the gravelly tone of Dr. King, followed by the higher, female voice of Mrs. Gale. At first she couldn't distinguish the words they were speaking, but as they went on, their voices grew louder. Emma was just able to make out Martin King pronouncing, "I'd say in six or seven months time it will be all over for poor Mrs. Peel."  
  
Emma Peel tried to swallow around the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat. Did her ears deceive her, or had Dr. King just told Mrs. Gale that she was dying? It seemed inconceivable, yet that's exactly what he had said. Emma rose out of bed, grabbed a slinky robe to cover her silk red and yellow pyjamas, and stumbled out of the room. "Hello, Doctor King, Mrs. Gale, what a pleasant surprise." She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice, but she didn't know if she had succeeded.   
  
"Mrs. Peel, I have something very imperative to tell you," Martin began tentatively.  
  
"Please, this is neither the time nor the place. There's work to be done, so let's not waste valuable minutes talking about my sickness, whatever that may be." Emma strolled around the room in a nonchalant manner, not daring to look King straight in the eye. "Steed and Miss King are looking for that elusive submarine base. I suggest that we go to Captain Weed's house and find out if he's keeping anything from us."  
  
"I'll be more than willing to do that, Mrs. Peel. You stay here with the doctor and discuss your diagnosis." Smiling encouragingly at the doctor, Mrs. Gale quitted the room.   
  
Mrs. Peel stopped her pacing long enough to say, "If you'll pardon me, I'm going to get dressed." With that regal air she so rightly possessed, Emma returned to her bedroom and shut the door.  
  
Dr. King was appreciative for the extra time to gather his nerve and wits. He rubbed his hands together briskly, wishing Mrs. Gale had remained at the suite to help him with his explanation.   
  
It took Dr. Gale only a short amble down the seashore to get to Captain Weed's lighthouse. She ascended the steps with great agility and smiled briefly at the sign that read, C. Weed. She loudly knocked on the door then waited for a response.   
  
After several interminable minutes, Captain Weed opened the door a crack. Seeing Cathy Gale's gorgeous figure clad in a black leather cat suit, he opened it wider, gesturing for her to come inside. "I didn't expect to see ye here, Miss Gale, but ye are more than welcome to come into me house."  
  
"It's Mrs. Gale, and thank you, Captain Weed." Once they were situated comfortably in his living room, Cathy began, "My friend Mr. Steed and I were caught up in this rather disturbing chain of events that basically evolved around Professor Hardy Korall and his goons. It appears that this so called professor seems to be the one with the powers capable of creating these whirlpools." Cathy paused for emphasis before resuming her conversation. "He also has been working out of a submarine base." Mrs. Gale gazed right into Captain Weed's listless eyes and asked, "Tell me once and for all, can a submarine cause such mayhem?"  
  
Captain Weed stared at her meditatively, as if not certain he should tell her.   
  
**********  
  
Mr. Steed and Miss King strained their eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of some sort of island or submarine base. After almost an hour of traveling, the spies spotted what appeared to be a large, uninhabited isle. On closer investigation, they discovered that the land mass did have a base of some kind on it.   
  
Paris carefully steered his boat to a dock then tied its rope to the cleat. The seven travelers stepped onto the dock and gingerly walked to shore. Crates littered the sand along with coils of hemp rope and battered scuba gear. Several seagulls cawed almost angrily, swooping down on the Avengers and their friends.  
  
Tara put her hands on her lime green denim jeans, not quite believing what she saw. The island seemed completely deserted save for the few seabirds! "Well, what do we do now?" she inquired of Steed.  
  
"We look for people . . . and a submarine." Steed clambered across the golden sand toward a massive cave. A deep channel of water flowed into the cave from the sea. Pointing at the stream, Steed asked Larraine, "Is this water deep enough to immerse a submarine?"  
  
Larraine approached the water's edge and peered down into the depths. "Yes, and I'd say this channel was manmade as well." Larraine hurriedly stepped into the dark cave, Steed, Paris and Tara close behind her. The policemen remained on the beach surveying the area and its articles.  
  
Steed scrunched up his forehead in contemplation. "I have the strangest suspicion that we're going to come face to face with the boss of this whole operation."  
  
"You think Korall has escaped from prison?" Tara asked incredulously.  
  
Steed didn't answer, but merely marched forward into the enclosing darkness. Paris flicked on an electric torch, enabling them to see clearly. They continued to walk along the edge of the water for several yards until they saw the submarine, its top only barely above the water.   
  
"Too bad Mrs. Peel isn't here to identify the sub," Paris remarked. "It seems rather futile to be searching for this submarine if we don't even know it's the 'ship' she saw a couple days ago."  
  
"The submarine is inconsequential compared to the finding of more henchmen," retorted Steed. He motioned for his three companions to follow him as he ventured deeper into the cavern. Soon the came upon an office carved into the rock. Steed cautiously opened the door to the office, and, once seeing that the coast was clear, stepped inside.   
  
A scrawny fellow, who had been hiding behind a file cabinet waiting for the opportune moment to strike, immediately bombarded Steed. He sent Steed sailing across the room, bowler, brolly, and all. Distraught at this display of incivility towards the man she loved, Tara pounced onto the enemy's back. In an attempt to lose her, the stranger began whirling around the room with Tara clinging securely to him.  
  
After only a few seconds of these shenanigans, Paris had had enough. With a powerful stroke of the hand, he laid out the gaunt man.  
  
Steed picked himself off the floor and brushed himself off, the air of a martyr about him. He advanced to the winded man and demanded, "All right, how does the submarine cause such damage to the water?"  
  
"I swear to you, I don't know!" whimpered the nemesis.  
  
"Maybe this will help refresh your memory." Larraine came over to the man ready to kick his face in with her high-heeled boots.   
  
"All right, I'll tell ya, but please don't hurt me anymore." The young fellow scrambled from the floor and sat in a desk chair. The four sleuths gathered around him, prepared to listen to his tale.  
  
Finally the lad spoke, "Submarines use either diesel-electric or nuclear power to drive their propellers through the water and to provide the electricity on the inside and outside. These engines ensure quick travel through the water, causing minimal waves and currents . . ."  
  
*********  
  
Back at the lighthouse, Captain Weed was likewise retelling the story for Mrs. Gale's benefit. He had just finished explaining how submarines were supposed to work. "Fifteen years ago, an intellectual man with a brilliant idea went to a group of inventors and scientists. He proposed they create a submarine with a pulse-jet engine instead of the normal diesel-electric or nuclear power engines. The scientists immediately began researching and working on this project. After five years of endless planning, they began building this massive sub. Aye, it would've been a grand submarine, if not for the fact that the pulse-jet engine caused severe damage wherever it went . . ."  
  
**********  
  
After finishing such a long dialogue very similar to Captain Weed's, the stranger paused for a brief moment before continuing. "The pulse-jet engine caused suction in the water, resulting in whirlpools. It also was much noisier, not at all ideal for surprise attacks. By this time the scientists and inventors had run out of resources, so they called the project off . . ."  
  
**********  
  
Captain Weed sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "The intelligent man who had come up with the idea in the first place, was devastated. His machine didn't work, and to top it all, he had no more money. He was getting old, so jobs would be harder to find. He was about to give up hope when he heard of the Fabled Treasure of R. MeBuckles. If he found this treasure, he would be rich once again able to pursue more research on his submarine. He immediately started searching for the treasure, but it wasn't long until his dreams were shattered once more. Distant relatives were searching for the treasure. In desperation, the inventor took his prized sub out into the water, ready to wreak havoc for the relatives and any divers who happened to get in way of the money . . ."  
  
***********  
  
"Several of the scientists who had been working on the project heard of the chaos in the Caribbean and realised who and what was causing all this trouble. They came to Paradisa Island to blackmail the crazed inventor. He would have to split the treasure or they would tell everyone that he was the one behind the murders." The scrawny man scratched his head thoughtfully, as if recalling all these events. "The inventor agreed to their terms, sending them to look for the treasure. Everything was going well until you spies showed up," he added bitterly. "We were so close to finding the treasure."  
  
"Well, so were we until your party sent that submarine to kill us," Steed remarked dryly.  
  
"How are you able to see in the deep waters?" Paris inquired, showing his little knowledge of submersibles.   
  
"This submarine has lights on it very much like cars do. It can shine in the darkest and murkiest of waters." The lanky chap seemed proud of the destructive machinery.  
  
"So that was the bright light we saw in the cave when we were scuba diving!" Steed exclaimed at this revelation. Suddenly an interesting thought dawned on him. "The submarine with its powerful engine had to be in our vicinity in order to create a gigantic whirlpool, yet it endangered our lives while it was still in the cave."  
  
The felon shook his head before explaining, "That 'grotto' you mentioned is actually a large carved out tunnel. The sub can go in one entrance and out the other. We hid it in the tunnel every day until some nosy divers came along. Then we'd flash those bright lights that would temporarily blind the poor losers. We would take this appropriate moment to swim out of our hideaway with the powerful engine that caused the whirring and the great force. If the divers ever did see the submarine, it would be too late, because they would be stuck in our whirlpool."  
  
There was a thunderstruck silence for several moments as everyone tried to digest that piece of information. Then Tara prodded the youth, "Who is this inventor you were speaking of? Hardy Korall?"   
  
"I refuse to tell any of you," was the snide reply.  
  
"Oh, this young man doesn't need to tell, because I already know the inventor." Steed grabbed the young fellow's arm and escorted him to Mr. Brown's boat. Once they were all standing on the pier, Steed demanded, "Is there anybody else on this island, and don't think of lying!"  
  
The youth hesitated before replying, "Assuming you arrested Riley, Korall, and the rest of the guys already, there would only be four other men at this base."  
  
Just then the policemen appeared over a large sandy dune with the four remaining bandits. "These gentlemen were trying to escape by way of a boat that was tied up on the other end of the island," explained one of the policemen as he stepped onto the dock.  
  
"Well, we can't all fit in my vessel, so you might as well take two of these criminals back to their escape boat," Paris retorted. "Larraine can steer the boat if you aren't capable of doing it yourselves." Ms. Crabbe gave Paris a long look of dismay, but he ignored it.   
  
The police agreed and dragged the two more malevolent outlaws back to their boats. Tara, Steed, Paris, the scrawny man and two of his partners in crime boarded Mr. Brown's boat and soon were cruising the Caribbean.   
  
At the intervening time, Cathy was smiling satisfactorily as Captain Weed finished his lengthy narrative. "Thank you, Captain Weed, your account has been most enlightening. I believe that someone should inform Mr. Steed of this news, for he will be as interested in it as I am."  
  
Mrs. Gale rose to leave but was checked by Captain Weed's jovial voice, "Aye, someone should be letting Mr. Steed know all about this." Suddenly his tone turned ruthless as he added, "Unfortunately ye aren't the one who is going to be telling him."  
  
Startled at this abrupt change in manners, Cathy turned to gaze at her companion. To her dismay she found herself staring at the barrel of a gun!  
  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
  
Note: Submarines are really run by diesel-electric or nuclear power propellers. It's also true that pulsejet engines are noisy and cause vibrations. However, in real life a pulsejet engine cannot really work in a submarine. But if the Avengers could have a brain-switching machine, man-killing robots, and masks that alter people's countenance, I'm sure they can have a submarine with a pulsejet engine. 


	11. Fourth Afternoon

Fourth Afternoon  
  
Mrs. Peel made sure to take ten extra minutes to dress, trying to detain the inevitable. Finally she emerged from her bedroom to face the impatient doctor. After ordering her breakfast to be brought up to her room, Emma Peel seated herself on the couch. "You were saying something about my diagnosis?" she anxiously prodded. She curled up on her sofa, brushing a piece of imaginary dust of her sundress. The dress had two layers, the top made out of a gauzy blue and purple material with orange, red and green splashes on it, and the bottom layer consisting of a heavier material that was also navy blue. Four metal chain links connected the thin straps to the dress.  
  
King cleared his throat several times, yet his voice still was raspy as he spoke. "I had my suspicions from the start of your examination, Mrs. Peel, but I had to obtain the proof from your tests. Otherwise, I could have misdiagnosed you."  
  
"I understand perfectly, Dr. King." Emma stared pitifully at him with her brown, doe eyes, entreating him to tell her good news.  
  
Martin averted his gaze to the floor and whispered, "It appears that you have not been poisoned at all but, in fact, are-"  
  
Just then, there was a resounding knock on the door. Emma quickly sprang to the feet, but she immediately became dizzy. On the verge of fainting, she sank, with an audible groan, onto the couch.  
  
King rushed to her side, not heeding the incessant pounding of-who he assumed was-the steward with Mrs. Peel's breakfast. He grasped her wrist, trying to find her pulse. Then he glanced at his watch as he counted how many heart palpitations she had in a minute. Her heart beats were extremely rapid at the moment.   
  
Mrs. Peel pursed her thirsty lips together in order to form the words, "Please tend to the steward."  
  
Dr. King reluctantly complied the feeble lady's request. He paid the bellboy too large a fee in order to get rid of the busybody sooner. King gently shut the door and returned to his patient. "Don't you see how crucial it is that you rest, Mrs. Peel?"  
  
Before Emma could reply, the phone rang. Martin King sighed in exasperation at all these interruptions. Emma managed to answer the telephone, and it was fortunate that she did.  
  
"Mrs. Peel, this is Dr. Gale calling. I just wanted to say that I am safe and sound and having a marvelous time at Captain Weed's. In fact, we're going to spend some time together, telling each other old yarns from our past. So don't you worry if I don't come home for awhile, all right?"  
  
Emma raised an eyebrow at this dialogue. Why would Mrs. Gale call to tell her she was well? It was uncharacteristic of her blonde, buxom associate to do such a flippant thing. Cathy tried to avoid conversation as much as possible. So unless she was in danger, or needed to know some piece of information, she would never go out of her way to call. "Are you in serious trouble, Mrs. Gale?" Emma Peel demanded.  
  
"Yes, of course, Emma!" Cathy replied as cheery as she could muster. Just so it didn't sound too suspicious, she added, "Of course I'll tell the story of your being sold into the harem of that prince!"  
  
"Dr. King and I will be at Captain Weed's as soon as we can," Mrs. Peel declared. She swiftly hung up the phone then turned to her companion. "Mrs. Gale is in dire need of our help; let's go!" She disappeared into her bedroom for a moment to slip into some comfortable shoes. A minute later she joined King in the living area once again.  
  
After writing a brief note to inform Steed and Tara where they were bound, the two set off for Captain Weed's lighthouse.  
  
****************  
  
Catherine Gale hung up the telephone hoping help would come soon. She gave a disgusted look at her adversary, who was waving his gun at her in a dangerous fashion.  
  
"That was perfect, Mrs. Gale; I'm sure ye have them all fooled." Captain Weed sighed as he pushed Cathy into a wobbly rocking chair. He began binding her to the furniture. "Fifteen years I wasted, trying to get that infernal machine to work properly. I could've been at sea, enjoying life, but instead I was stupid enough to think this submarine could work."   
  
Weed finished his job and started pacing the floor. "I didn't know enough about submersibles when I solicited the help of Professor Korall and his cohorts. I should've stuck to my ship . . . much more dependable she was." Captain Weed advanced toward Mrs. Gale at a frightening rate as if ready to strangle her slender neck.   
  
He stopped halfway to bellow resentfully, "Ye have no idea how frustrating it is to lose yer money and yer position in society all because ye followed yer dreams and ambitions!" He swooped down on her like a hawk cornering its prey. "Don't ye see, I need that treasure more than anybody else! I deserve that money, and I am going to get it!" Weed clenched his hand into a tight fist, bringing it inches away from Cathy Gale's face.  
  
"Your murderous behaviour is inexcusable, Captain Weed. You do NOT deserve that treasure at all. Miss Crabbe and her father are much better suited for owning that money. They are the rightful heirs who are in desperate need of some sort of resource."  
  
"Their scuba shop is thriving, so they could do without the gold," Weed disputed. "Your time is running short, so I suggest you not waste it arguing futilely with me." Grinning evilly, he cocked the pistol.  
  
"Where are you going to kill me: at your hideaway? I'm sorry to say this, but the police have been investigating the bungalow all day."  
  
Captain Weed snarled as he replied, "I was thinking an 'accidental' drowning at sea would be most befitting for you." He eyed the apprehensive woman contemptuously as he reiterated, "Aye, most befitting."  
  
*****************  
  
At a quarter to eleven, Mr. Steed and Miss King arrived back at the tropical resort. They hurried to Mrs. Peel's room, ready to invite her out for lunch. Laughing merrily, Steed knocked on Mrs. Peel's door. Tara swung her green denim jacket over her shoulder and waited in anticipation. After a minute of complete silence, the two looked at each other and burst into the hotel room.  
  
Steed quickly investigated the area. It appeared Mrs. Peel had left in a hurry, for her breakfast lay on a tray, cold and untouched.   
  
Tara King likewise surveyed the room until she spotted a note lying next to the telephone. Casting her coat aside, she scampered over to the letter. She briefly scanned the note, which read:  
  
Steed,   
Dr. King and I have gone to Captain Weed's in search of Mrs. Gale. We shall hopefully return soon.  
Sincerely,  
Mrs. Peel  
  
"Steed, look at this letter!" Tara ordered. She handed it to Mr. Steed, who wasted only a second to read it.  
  
"But they can't go to Captain Weed's!" he cried in obvious agitation. "Don't they know that Weed is the crazed inventor, the one behind all these murders!" He bolted out the door without another word.  
  
Tara stared incredulously at the spot where Steed had been. "Captain Weed is the enemy?" she exclaimed in utter disbelief.  
  
Steed popped his head back into the room in order to answer. "Why else would he have seven books on submarines?" He offered his arm to Tara, and they exited the room in a record time.  
  
*************  
  
Emma Peel and Martin King ran as fast as they could through the golden sand. "Captain Weed used the 'Curse of R. MeBuckles,' as a cover-up for his dastardly deeds," Emma explained to an ignorant King. "I wonder if there really ever was a curse to begin with, or if it all was an invention of his."  
  
"No, he didn't make it up, Mrs. Peel," King replied. "When I first arrived in Paradisa Island I was told of the fabled curse of Captain MeBuckles that was supposedly on the treasure."  
  
"Weed must feel very proud for making this legendary curse a reality," Emma Peel commented wryly.  
  
They traversed the rest of the stretch of sand in a tense quiet. Soon they were climbing the rickety steps of the cottage that was connected to the lighthouse. Martin was about to pound furiously on the door when Emma checked him.   
  
"Let's see if there's another entrance to this building," she suggested. "That way we can sneak into the house unobserved."  
  
The twosome silently crept around Captain Weed's hut, hoping to find a door. Their search was in vain, because they soon reached the edge of the cliff on which the lighthouse had been built on. King was about to mutter some irritable remark when he discovered a little window carved into the house. He eagerly pointed out the window to Emma Peel.  
  
"I'm not small enough to climb into it, but I'm sure you'll just fit," Martin mused.  
  
"I'll see what I can do." Mrs. Peel stood on her toes to reach the windowpane then tried to heft herself up.   
  
Dr. King immediately rushed to her service so she wouldn't hurt herself. He cupped his hands together, and Emma placed her foot in them and climbed up. With every ounce of her strength, she plied the glass open. In one swift maneuver, she slipped inside.  
  
Emma cautiously glanced about herself, trying to decipher where she was. She soon realised she was crouching on the kitchen counter.  
  
"Mrs. Peel," came a hoarse whisper, "are you all right?"   
  
Emma Peel gazed out the window down at Dr. King before replying, "Yes, I appear to be in the kitchen. I assume no one is around at the moment, for I don't hear voices anywhere. If I'm in danger, I'll let out a shout; understood?"  
  
"I read you loud and clear, Mrs. Peel!" King smiled shortly and saluted her.  
  
Holding her breath, Emma sneaked to the kitchen door and peered out. Weed was seated on his couch, and Mrs. Gale was tied to a rocking chair. Occasionally Cathy would glance warily at the gun Weed was pointing at her.  
  
"I've called up me men on the P.A. system," Captain Weed informed his captive. "When they give me the signal, I'll take ye up to the top of the lighthouse and throw ye off. With all those boulders in the water below, it will be instantaneous death for ye."  
  
"What is this signal and what does it mean?" Cathy demanded.  
  
"The warning sign will be me destructive submarine, of course. When I see the signal, it will mean that the coast is clear of any bystanders."  
  
"Won't my drowning be a bit suspicious if they find my body smashed up by rocks?"  
  
"With the 'curse' going on, they'll just think ye are another victim." Weed rubbed his hands together at the sheer prospect of murdering the young Dr. Gale. At this time he unbound Mrs. Gale from the chair, keeping her arms tied, and goaded her to her feet. He shoved her out the front door and into the adjacent lighthouse.  
  
Emma hastily retraced her steps to the kitchen window. "Dr. King, he's taking Mrs. Gale to the actual lighthouse to throw her off the balcony! I'm going to follow him!"  
  
"If you're not cautious I'll shoot myself!" King retorted.  
  
"Why, Martin King, I didn't know you cared for me!" Mrs. Peel remarked mockingly. Before King could reply in his own defense she had disappeared from view. Soon Emma was silently ascending the spiral staircase of the lighthouse.  
  
Mrs. Peel could vaguely make out Weed saying, "We should be seeing the signal in a matter of moments, me thinks. I hope you won't mind, but I'll have to gag you, Mrs. Gale," Weed told her with artificial politeness. "I wouldn't want your screams to be heard all over the isle."  
  
Upon hearing this biting remark, Cathy angrily kicked Captain Weed in the stomach. He toppled over in pain and stared at Mrs. Gale in bewilderment. "You shouldn't have untied my legs, Captain Weed. That was your one mistake in your murderous scheme." Cathy fought the urge to gloat at the irate criminal before her.  
  
Weed responded to her reveling with a heavy blow that sent Mrs. Gale crashing to the lighthouse floor. In an act of unadulterated fury, the captain dragged Cathy to her feet by grabbing hold of her wrists. "This is the part where you die, Dr. Gale," he chortled menacingly as he stuffed a gag in her mouth.   
  
Emma was about to rush to the rescue when Weed gave a wild ejaculation of disbelief. Mrs. Peel climbed several more stairs in order to see what the captain was so astonished about. What she observed in the Caribbean below made her smirk with utter delight.  
  
One of Paris Brown's motorboats was skimming the surface of the water, leisurely making its way to the site of the sunken ship. Paris, Larraine and her father, attired in scuba gear, were in the boat with five other divers. The crew soon set anchor near the location of the ship, and several of the divers began searching for the treasure.  
  
"This can't be happening!" Weed screeched. "Where are me men and me submarine? They should be wreaking havoc right about now, making certain these scallywags don't get me treasure!"  
  
Emma Peel stepped onto the balcony of the lighthouse, saying, "Your men must have been detained somehow, perhaps by Steed and Miss King?"  
  
Captain Weed didn't reply, but instead tried to throw Mrs. Gale over the railing. Emma pounced on him like a dangerous tiger stalking her next meal. While she kung fu chopped him in the neck, Cathy kicked him in the shins. While Weed was temporarily winded, Emma untied the gag and Cathy's arms.  
  
Meanwhile, down on the ground outside the lighthouse, King was impatiently waiting for Mrs. Peel to return. After ten minutes, he went up the lighthouse's spiral staircase in pursuit of Emma Peel and Catherine Gale. It became clearly evident as he climbed that someone was following him, because he heard footsteps on every stair behind him. Dr. King stopped, but the person or persons kept coming!  
  
In several interminable seconds, John Steed and Tara King emerged from below him. "I thought I was about to encounter one of Captain Weed's goons," remarked King, relief noticeable in his voice.  
  
"I'm happy to report that all of Weed's men have been apprehended," Tara proudly informed him.   
  
Steed was about to make some sort of superficial comment when he heard quite a commotion drifting down from upstairs. "I think it's about time to arrest that heinous fiend, Captain Weed!" The trio scurried up the remainder of the steps.  
  
Emma and Cathy had managed to back Captain Weed against the railing. Weed was flailing his arms uncontrollably about himself, trying to keep his balance. He gazed angrily about himself until his eyes rested on the alpine figure of John Steed.  
  
"Ye are the one who ordered the Crabbes to search for their treasure!" cried Weed.  
  
"That's right, Captain Weed; I knew it would be safe with your henchmen out of the way." Steed swung his brolly around as if to threaten the villain.  
  
" What have ye done to me men, Steed?" Captain Weed demanded harshly, but his tone was becoming desperate.  
  
"They are all locked up safely in jail," replied Steed. "Your submarine is still at your base, just waiting to be destroyed by several officials who should be arriving at the island in a matter of minutes to take it away."  
  
"No, I need that money! What am I going to do without that treasure?" Captain Weed put his head in his hands and ran for the stairs. John, Tara, and Martin were still blocking the doorway, though.   
  
As soon as Weed reached at the threesome, Steed brought his arms up defensively to push the criminal away from him and the others. The impact was so strong that Weed tottered backwards up to the railing. Emma and Cathy grabbed for the insane murderer, but it was to no avail. With a cacophonous scream, the madman fell over the balustrade and plummeted to his death.  
  
The five Avengers quickly peered over the railing at the inert body of Captain Weed, smashed upon the rocks. Several bystanders were staring at the body and pointing up at the lighthouse. It was ironic how he had died the death he had specifically planned for Mrs. Gale.  
  
"Don't worry about the casualty, King," Steed assured the concerned doctor. "Being a spy, I have full immunity from any killings that might occur."  
  
"Besides," Miss King added, "It was an accident. We four can witness to that if the case should be taken to court, which I doubt."  
  
"Are you feeling all right, Dr. Gale?" Martin tenderly asked the stressed lady before him.  
  
Cathy slightly relaxed as she heard his inquiry. "I'll be so much better if I can get to my hotel room to rest awhile."  
  
"Yes, I propose that we all get some sleep, especially you, Mrs. Peel." King gazed authoritively at the slender woman leaning on the balustrade.  
  
Taking several steps forward, Emma opened her mouth to reply. She gasped in distress before collapsing to the floor unconscious!  
  
To Be Continued! 


	12. And Last

And Last . . .   
  
Emma raised her groggy head from a comfortable pillow. She glanced at the familiar surroundings of her hotel bedroom. The last thing she recollected was fainting in the lighthouse. Crimsoning with shame, she glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table to see what time it was. The clock read 1:07 p.m., which meant she had been reposing for forty-five minutes. Mrs. Peel hadn't been undressed when place in her bed, so she quickly scrambled to her feet and bounded to the living area.   
  
Dr. King immediately looked up as Emma Peel entered the room. "I'm glad that you're awake. I've brought you a large, healthy lunch that I expect you to eat right now!"  
  
The enticing aroma of chicken, baked potatoes, and asparagus made Emma aware that she was ravenous. "Did you realise that I haven't eaten for sixteen hours?" She didn't wait for an answer but began consuming her meal.  
  
"Yes I did, which is why I'm making sure you eat every bite." Martin remained silent for several minutes, in deep contemplation. Just as he was about to speak, Catherine Gale entered the suite with John Steed and Tara King.  
  
"We're all here and accounted for," Mrs. Gale informed King unnecessarily.   
  
Then will you proceed with your speech, Mrs. Gale?" entreated Dr. King politely.  
  
Emma offered a chicken drumstick to a salivating Miss King. "I already know what you are going to say." Four pairs of eyes were riveted on Mrs. Peel. She took a deep breath and continued, "You're going to tell me that I'm dying, am I correct?"  
  
Steed looked positively pale at this declaration, as did Tara. Dr. King stared bemusedly at the expectant Emma Peel. "Whatever gave you that crazy notion?" he asked.  
  
Emma's face turned absolutely red with embarrassment as she replied, "I overheard you telling Mrs. Gale that it would be all over for me in six or seven months."  
  
King and Gale tried not to laugh at her answer, but it was a fruitless attempt. "No, we really shouldn't make sport of poor Mrs. Peel," Cathy remarked, sobering considerably. "After all, it did sound like you were making a death sentence. Besides, her diagnosis is not to be taken lightly." Dr. Gale seated herself next to Emma on the sofa. She took Mrs. Peel's hand then reached out to Steed. Steed grabbed his companion's hand, her gentleness towards him mystifying him more by the second.   
  
"Steed, Emma, I have something to say that might shock you considerably. At times I can scarcely believe it myself," Cathy admitted reluctantly. "It appears the ministry brainwashed you both to forget that you were married to each other." Then Cathy proceeded to relate the whole tale to the astounded couple.  
  
When she finished, a deathly quiet settled over the room. It seemed to permeate the building, for no sound was heard outside the hotel room either.  
  
Finally, Tara said, "I've known this secret for several months now. At one time I was considering ignoring the truth, but I've come to the conclusion that I can't disregard it. Therefore, I will quit working at this present ministry and go find another one that leaves people's lives alone. There are so few chances in this life for real happiness, so why should I be associated with people who take this joy away from others?" she demanded, not anticipating a reply.  
  
"Oh, how I wish I had you for myself, Steed," continued Tara. "As it is, I will respect your marriage and will never talk of my love for you again!" Tara's resolution was so noble, Emma had no choice but to embrace the young woman.  
  
"For this you shall receive a bottle of blanc de blancs wine from the north of De Grand Cru every month for the rest of your sweet life!" Mrs. Steed exclaimed.  
  
"For Heaven's sake, I've forgotten about Mitchell!" Steed cried in alarm.  
  
"Well, I didn't," Martin responded with a wry smile. "I've had him arrested on charges of harassment to Miss King and Mrs. Steed."  
  
"He's in jail and not even in is Mother Country." Steed shook his head as if in disgust, but everyone could see the small smirk playing on his lips. "That should teach him not to work for a crooked boss."  
  
"What should be done with Mother?" Emma inquired.   
  
"We can all quit the Agency. After all, there isn't a law that prevents us." Steed wrapped a protective arm around the delicate figure of his wife.  
  
"Yes, there are several other ministries in our fair country," Miss Tara added. "And if we can't find one to our liking, we can always start our own."  
  
"The New Avengers is an ideal name if I do say so myself," Steed mused.  
  
King cleared is throat, trying to get everyone's attention. "Mrs. Steed, don't you want to know what your diagnosis is?"  
  
Emma wriggled out of her husband's grasp to address the doctor. "Now that I know I'm not dying, I think I've figured it out."   
  
"It appears that you and Steed are expecting a child. He or she could arrive in six or seven months." Folding his hands, King smiled at the exuberant Emma.  
  
Steed turned blanche once more, and his knees buckled. "Oh, this can't be happening to me! What am I going to do while you're pregnant?"  
  
"You'll take care of me," Emma replied, unfazed at Steed's apparent displeasure.   
  
"Who will be my partner in crime fighting while you're with child?" Steed demanded.   
  
"I can be your substitute partner, and I'm sure, if you're extremely well behaved, Cathy will assist you every once and a while." Tara smiled demurely at the protestant John Steed.   
  
"Well, Emma, you've said yourself that I'd make a horrible daddy!" Steed persisted.   
  
"That's why they have classes for expectant parents," Cathy retorted.  
  
"Mrs. Gale, since you're the one who told me I was married to Steed, and, Tara, since you've promised to stop working for Mother, I guarantee you if the baby is a girl, I will name her Katherine Tara Steed in your honour," Emma proclaimed.  
  
"It would be a great privilege, Emma," Cathy beamed.  
  
"All right, you've gone too far!" Steed shouted. "You are not going to have the benefit of becoming a mother and having the baby be a girl! We are going to have a boy named John Wickham Gascoyne Berresford Steed II."  
  
"Just remember, John, when we have a girl it will be your fault!" Emma teased.  
  
"A Steed having a girl: that will be the day!" John Steed scoffed.  
  
"Come along, Mrs. Gale. I think we should leave Mr. and Mrs. Steed alone. They need a quiet time to get acquainted with each other again." King gently escorted a beaming Cathy out the door.   
  
It appeared Catherine had completely forgotten she was in mourning for her beau. As she exited the room, she called over her shoulder, "Are you coming with us, Tara?"  
  
"I'll be there in just a moment, Mrs. Gale," was the reply. Miss King gazed affectionately at Steed for a brief duration then, she shook herself, as if awaking from a deep slumber, and quitted the room.  
  
"Just so you know," Steed began as he sunk into a comfy chair, "you're going to have to hire a nanny for the little brat-I mean baby." After his wife arched a quizzical eyebrow, he continued, "We'll be too busy spying to take care of him."  
  
Laughing good-naturedly, Emma bent over her husband to plant a passionate kiss on his lips. "You were right, Steed; you will make a terrible father, but I'll love you anyways." She sat on the arm of his chair, placing an elegant hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You realise that we finished the case in five days!" Steed exclaimed. "That means we have eleven days left to enjoy Paradise."  
  
"And I plan to enjoy every minute of it," Emma declared as she got up from her position on the seat and returned to the sofa and her meal.  
  
Abruptly, the suite door flew open, and in stepped the Crabbes and Paris Brown. "We found the treasure!" squealed Larraine joyously. "It was right in the bowels of the ship, so that means we had almost reached it yesterday, Mrs. Peel!"  
  
"Actually, it's Mrs. Steed, but that's wonderful news just the same," answered Emma.  
  
Larraine stared confusedly at the couple for a moment before commencing her dialogue. "Father, Paris, and I are now millionaires! With all this money we can pay off our debts and finally return home to England!"  
  
"I thought you said my family and I weren't going to receive any of the fortune!" Paris reminded Larraine.  
  
"Well, you are going to be part of the intimate family soon, aren't you?" Larraine asked.  
  
"When did this occur?" Paris demanded.  
  
Larraine didn't reply, but instead kissed Paris firmly on the mouth. "You're going to marry me or else!" Before Paris could protest she added, "I've been in love with you for practically my whole life! I just was always to obstinate to admit it to you or anyone else."  
  
"It will nice to have you as my son, Alfred," stated Mr. Crabbe proudly.  
  
"The name is Paris!" yelled Larraine and Paris in unison.   
  
"So much for a quiet time," Emma remarked dryly. Steed merely pulled his bowler over his eyes in aggravation as he slumped down in his chair.  
  
  
  
Tag  
  
Mrs. Gale and Miss King both smiled as Steed pulled open his flat's front door. The Avengers had all returned to Great Britain, including Dr. King, who had received immunity from his "past deeds" for all his assistance in the case. The spies were having a little fete to celebrate Martin's return, Tara's brave deed in quitting her job, and lastly but not least, Emma and John's happiness in being expectant parents.  
  
"It's a pleasure to see you both, looking so ravishing and all," Steed told his two lady guests distractedly. He ushered the women into his apartment, but he forgot to take their coats.  
  
"Steed, is something wrong?" Cathy inquired impatiently.  
  
"Hmm, oh, I'm just wondering where by little bride has gone." Steed rubbed his hands together briskly.  
  
"He's turned into a concerned husband, how adorable!" Tara nonchalantly swung her string of pearls around several times before fluffing her hair. Her dark brown hair had just been curled that afternoon, and she was relishing the feel of running her fingers through it. Tara sexily crossed the room in her long, black gown heading to the Steeds' personal bar.   
  
Cathy was about to follow Miss King when she stumbled across a black stiletto that was lying haphazardly on the floor. To her utter amazement, she discovered dozens of shoes aligning the floor. "What on earth is this?"  
  
"My dears, I've designed a little treasure hunt for you two. Just follow the line of shoes around the room until you reach the large X, which marks the spot," Steed instructed.  
  
Tara giggled gleefully at the delightful game, while Cathy rolled her eyes in disgust. Nevertheless, when Miss King began following the long queue made up entirely of shoes, Mrs. Gale was right behind her.   
  
The shoes wove into the kitchen and the dining room, then back out again into the living room. It curved around Steed's tuba, over the sofa, and up high on the fireplace mantle. The line finally stopped at the door of an adjoining room, the big X entirely made out of Steed's dress shoes. The door opened to reveal Mrs. Steed and Dr. King each holding a bottle of blanc de blancs wine from the north of De Grand Cru. Tara sighed in satisfaction as she seized her appointed bottle from Emma. Cathy smiled dreamily up at the doctor, and grabbed the champagne and Martin's hand. Emma walked over to Steed, who was holding a bottle of non-alcoholic spumante.   
  
Soon the five spies were casually sipping their respected drinks. "I propose a toast to my wife Emma Steed!" John announced. "May she and the baby be happy and healthy!" The Avengers all readily agreed.  
  
There was a moment of silence, and then Cathy spoke up. "And I propose a toast to John Steed," she paused before she heartily added, "The greatest secret agent in Great Britain!"  
  
As everyone murmured, "Cheers," Steed's eyes interlocked with Mrs. Gale's. At one time she would have denied that he was the best spy she was acquainted with. He knew that Smyth's death wasn't the only reasoned she had changed her mind. Deep down she loved him, not like Emma did, but it was love.   
Steed smiled at his wife, then at Cathy, and finally at Tara. He actually wouldn't mind having a baby girl named Katherine Tara Steed. That way he could honour the three most brilliant, courageous, and beautiful women in the world.  
  
THE END!  
  
Note: This is for all my loyal readers. Thanks so much for your encouragement and your reviews. It really means a lot to me. Hopefully school won't be too hectic, and I'll be able to write another exciting Avengers episode very soon! 


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